


The Sun Queen

by SilenceNorth



Category: Horizon: Zero Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Mild Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-12 23:59:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 28,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10502175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilenceNorth/pseuds/SilenceNorth
Summary: After the events of Zero Dawn, Aloy seems lost for purpose. Avad offers her marriage and a throne. Could it be the best way to continue Elisabet's legacy? On top of everything, Erend is certainly not making choices easy.





	1. Chapter 1

 

Smoke continued to choke the skies over Meridian. There were no birds singing, or insects, and even the flow of water whispered in shock at the battle that had taken place. And yet, the silence was one of relief. The citizens of Meridian wandered through the debris, picking out familiar pieces of their past lives, occasionally crying out with joy or loss as they find a loved one. Occasionally, rocks crunched and grumbled down the mountainsides as teams of men and women levered paths clear once again, allowing building materials and supplies back into the city. It had been two days since Hades had been destroyed. Those who had not left for the Sacred Lands or otherwise returned from whence they came stayed to help with the recovery efforts.

Aloy was one of them. Since her victory, and despite the insistence of her companions, she worked tirelessly to help locate missing citizens, deliver food, and assist with medicine. Adrenaline seeped through her veins like Corruption, making her eyes too wide, her breath too shallow. The euphoria she felt in the finality of that last spear thrust still simmered in her hands. She was afraid to sleep… terrified that if she did, she’d wake to find their victory merely a dream.

Her mind was a blank as she seated the final pole supporting the canvas tent into its staked base, creating yet another shady shelter for those who came to help with the war effort. Many were not used to the heat, and there was a pile of heavy armor that had been shed nearby that Aloy recognized as Nora. She straightened, half tempted to add her own armor to the pile, but she knew the gesture would be more symbolic than anything. She couldn’t abandon it just yet.

It took a few moments before she realized a voice saying her name. Lately, she was more used to responding to “Annointed One” or “Outsider”, as much as it rankled her. At least “Savage” had been benched… for now.

“Oh, Blameless Marad…” She mumbled, wiping sweat from her brow. “Did you need something?”

The older man’s eyes crinkled at the corners, but his expression was one of concern. “When was the last time you’d eaten?” He asked, producing a parcel wrapped in cloth from his robes. Aloy nearly gagged, but was able to keep it hidden with a soft cough into the back of her wrist. Food was farthest from her mind, though admittedly not from her stomach. It growled in objection at her initial thoughts of refusal. When _had_ she eaten? Surely it was not as long ago as she remembered.

“Thank you.” She accepted the parcel, pleased to see it wasn’t heavy. A loaf of honeyed bread, from the scent of it. That wouldn’t be too much after so long without, she’d hoped. Despite her intention to continue working while snacking, her body nonetheless made its own decision to flop down upon the pile of armor. Just a few minutes, she promised herself. Blameless Marad seemed to take her moment of weakness as an opportunity to chat.

“The Sun King Avad wishes to speak to you,” he told her in a solemn tone. Did he have any other tone? Seeming to pick up on her expression of exasperation, he adds, “He too is worried for your wellbeing, as he has only heard tales of your victory secondhand since you returned from the Spire. He would like to thank you personally.” No more errands, was his implication.

Aloy swallowed her bite of sweet, fluffy bread. She didn’t reply immediately, instead helping herself to another chunk. It was so good… she’d never had anything so delicious. Yes, it must have been a while since she’d eaten. Her legs ached at the thought of climbing all those stairs to the palace. “He’s in the usual place?” She asks, and her tone must have given her away, because Marad’s face split into a grin.

“No. He is overseeing the removal of machine parts from the city. He will not allow their corpses to draw in the scrappers or glinthawks, or even less savory visitors while we are at our most vulnerable. You can find him on the south side of the city. He originally came looking for you, but he… gets distracted by duties so quickly.”

Her snack depleted, Aloy doubted she could find another excuse to avoid the Sun King. She gave Blameless Marad a bland smile, promising she’d seek out Avad as soon as she could. The advisor swept away, she couldn’t help but wonder how he stayed so cool and dry in those layered fabrics while she dripped sweat even after rest. Still, the respite was welcome, and his even-toned voice a relief among the shouting and screeching of metal in the heart of the near-ruined city.

When she got up, she found she was in much poorer shape than she’d hoped. Her legs burned, and the darkening at the edges of her vision caused her to lean heavily upon the pole she’d so recently erected for the tent. Water, just a few sips of water and she could get back to work. All of the bruises and hot metal burns she had suffered over the last few days seemed to come alive, as if triggered by the morsel of food she’d eaten. She could feel eyes on her, hopeful eyes, people waiting to ask a favor or thank her or simply to stare at her like a goddess come to life. Unbeknownst to them, however, this goddess was about to vomit.

“Whoa there!” A large, gloved hand clasped over her shoulder, a touch she’d almost gotten used to. Only one person ever really touched her since she’d last seen Rost, even if it was an occasional pat on the back or a squeeze to the shoulder. The other Nora, save perhaps Teb, seemed too intimidated, and she’d noticed the Carja weren’t terribly touchy-feely folk. That left only one man.

“I figured he’d poisoned that bread. That Marad guy can’t stand a moment’s peace,” Erend chuckled, steadying her once more. She rolled her head back to look up at him, alarm sparking in the back of her mind, until she began to realize his teasing grin. He looked almost as tired as she felt, and his usually well-shaven chin was beginning to grow back in, mingling with his moustache and jawline beard. Even his hair was beginning to come back. For some reason, she noticed there was no grey. Did she expect there to be? He must not have been as old as he seemed. His smile faltered when he saw her face. “Whoa, Aloy. When was the last time you slept?... Aloy?”

The darkness began to seep farther across her vision, like ink in water. Her last glimpse was of the relentless sun, turning red through the cover of her lashes before fading entirely to black.


	2. Chapter 2

She needed to stop waking up in places she didn’t recognize. At least this time, it was not behind the bars of a cage. Sounds crept to her as she squinted through the blurriness of her vision, trying to make sense of her surroundings before giving away that she was awake. She heard the same chaos of the day as before, though much more muffled, coming through an open window… one she recognized. Olin’s house.

She sat straight up in the large, silken bed. Was it time? The raid was surely upon them by now, she needed her… armor. It was gone. A simple cotton shift kept her cool, and underneath her wounds were bandaged and wrapped. A bowl of water, cool to the touch, sat nearby, as well as her clean, folded clothes. For a moment she searched desperately for her spear before she remembered. No more battles… no more Hades… no more spear. She hoped with all her being that it was true.

Turning, she slid her legs out from under the blankets, wondering who had undressed her. Her heart skipped a beat when she, for a moment, considered it may have been Erend, but common sense told her otherwise. She heard voices from downstairs, one of which she recognized from one of the healers come to offer her services to the city. Surely she’d been the one. Her legs were shaky… it took a few moments to push herself to her feet. With dismay, she found she’d left an imprint of dirt, blood, and grease where she’d lay: at least no one had taken the liberty of bathing her. She drank like a fish at the bowl of water before using some to splash against her face, leaving rivulets of skin in the haze of smoky scum that she’d accumulated. Yes. She needed a bath at some point. Gathering up her things, she began to pull on her trousers, padding barefoot down the stairs.

Eyes turned to greet her. Avad was there, as well as the healer she’d recognized, a handful of guards, and a very anxious-looking Erend, whose face split into a grin of pleasure when he saw her, as it always did. Despite herself, she smiled back. His expression was contagious. Plus, he was the only one who didn’t seem a little alarmed at her appearance. The healer, satisfied she was in one piece, bowed towards Avad before disappearing out the door. The Sun King gave her a wide gesture with his hand.

“Aloy!” He exclaimed, injecting more passion into his voice than his expression shared. “It’s good to see you walking unaided. A rest has done you well. I have procured a gift for you, in hopes it will help make up for the hardships the last few days have caused you.”  
                Aloy followed his gesture to see a large, ornately carved tub nearby, filled nearly full with cloudy, pale water. She saw small wisps of steam emerge from it, and her entire being ached to be in that tub over her head. A table with dishes of fragrances, she assumed, sat nearby, and she went to pluck a fingerful of gritty white granules from a pile, sniffing curiously. Far too strong.

“I had the healer make up the finest concoctions for sore muscles and bruises,” Avad announced proudly. “The salts are harvested from our own waters, with the essences of oils come from deep within the Jewel.” He crossed his arms, grand in his usual kingly attire. She pictured him out among his people dressed like a flag in the debris. She frowned as she considered the time it took for a healer, desperately needed in this time, wasting her day setting up a _bath._ She wanted to refuse it. Instead, she pulled her lips tight and nodded. Perhaps she will be of more use once her muscles stopped aching. She will make up for her down time afterwards. She dipped her hand in the water. It almost seemed to suck her in, beckon her to delve to the bottom, clothes and all.

She noticed with dismay that Avad had ordered Erend and the guards out of the room. She looked up as the door closed, her lips parting as if to call them back. She knew what was coming, but she decided to give the King the benefit of the doubt and drew herself upright to be addressed.

“Aloy,” Avad’s voice was lower as he took a few steps towards her, uncrossing his arms. There was that odd look. The puppy-look some men gave her. Avad used it to look vulnerable to her, she knew. She also knew he was anything but. “I have been worried to sickness for you. Ever since the battle has ended, there’s been nothing but work for us to rebuild, to heal, to fortify. Anything could happen now, with our defenses down. We owe you so much, and yet I can’t even find you to thank you.” His eyes were being kept carefully on hers. She wondered if it was him being polite about her current state of filth. Perhaps it was the only reason he wasn’t closing the distance.

“This is a wonderful gesture,” She assured him, tapping the tub at her back. A small laugh to try and disarm the situation. “Gaia knows I need it.” A flicker of confusion reminds him that he may have forgotten just who he was referring to. “You owe me nothing,” she concluded. “I am staying and helping because it is what’s needed. There are tents to build, inventories to take, paths to blast clear. I will be good as new in a few hours.” She hoped he couldn’t sense her lie.

Frustration tinged Avad’s features, but did not make it into his even, practiced voice. “That’s not what I meant, Aloy.” At this point, it seemed, he was having trouble putting together the words that were most neutral. “I… look I know we’ve already spoken before about.. the situation with Ersa.” Oh no, Aloy lamented. This again. “But I see now I was wrong. I was not looking to you to fill in for her. Ersa was an amazing woman, surely, but you…” His eyes squinted a little as he looked at her. “You’re like the Sun herself. There can be no comparison.”

She still wasn’t sure how to handle comments like these. Was she supposed to pick something about him that she liked? A compliment for a compliment? “You’re a good king, Avad,” she put on her friendliest smile. After all, it was the truth. “Ersa would have been so proud of your victory, the work you’re doing.”

Avad’s lips pulled a little. Was he frowning. Too late, she realized it wasn’t what he wanted to hear. This wasn’t about Ersa at all. “Avad,” she continued. Her legs were beginning to ache again. The tub was so inviting, so close. Even the smelly weeds and salts were intoxicating. “I’m not staying. I already told you. I’m not… cut out for that kind of thing. I’m not…”

The Sun King held up a hand. “Just… think about it, Aloy. The people respect you. They’ve learned to love you. I’ve learned to… accept that you are different. But you have to remember that my first priority is to Meridian and my people. And if it’s in their best interest to give them a queen that…” He’d said it out loud, and the revelation caused his words to falter. For an uncomfortable moment, they stared at eachother. “You would want for nothing,” were Avad’s final words. “Enjoy your bath. Please consider my offer, huntress.”

“I’ll think about it…” She finally relented. He nodded, satisfied. With a flash of gold, he was out the door.  

For the first time in what seemed to years, Aloy unbraided her hair. Some of the ties she’d used were so worn they needed to be cut from her head. She wasn’t going to think about Avad right now. She wasn’t going to think about the war, or the Carja, or the tents. After a moment’s pause, she took off her Focus, setting it on the table. Today, she was not Annointed, or the Seeker, or a queen. She wasn’t a Savage, an outsider, a Nora. She was not Elisabet.

Something had changed. Today, she was only Aloy, and for the first time since she can remember, she was completely naked.

 


	3. Chapter 3

  
There was going to be a feast. The concept was ridiculous. A feast, however small, was an unaffordable luxury in this time and place. Still, Marad assured her that it was expected, to honor those who had acted heroically during battle and to remember those who’d died. She was expected. The Focus remained on the table, where she’d left it before her bath. Her hair had dried when Blameless Marad had stopped to deliver the message. He was stunned to see it clean for once, free of the baubles that were so popular in the Nora lands. Free of the headpieces flaunted by the Carja walking through the city. He complimented her on it, and she said he looked very fine that evening. He seemed pleased as he left.  
Her armor, though clean, had seen better days. She brought together what she could, and with the help from her donated shift she’d woken up in, was able to put together something she’d be comfortable in. Vulnerable, though, she thought. “Let’s just hope I can keep the murder to a minimum,” she joked with herself, lacing together her vest. “And now I sound like Nil.” She slipped out the door to Olin’s home, taking one last glance at the Focus still glimmering on the table. She could barely see it in the waning sun. Silently, she closed the door.  
In the torchlight, you could almost ignore the destruction. Ramshackle tables and canvases covered most of the rubble, and people were well on their way selling their wares once more. Some were collecting donations, focusing on the more richly dressed passersby. There were clustered of rougher-looking folk, most keeping to themselves around small campfires, some sullen, some laughing and drinking. They were having their own feasts, Aloy noted with amusement, half tempted to join them. She squinted in the darkness as she walked, trying to find Erend among the merry-makers. She was disappointed at his absence, but in fact saw none of the Vanguard. Perhaps they were already at the feast.  
Stepping through the threshold to the palace courtyard, Aloy noticed one of the guards twitch, as if to bar her entry. He almost didn’t recognize me, she finally realized. Did she truly look that different without her armor, washed, and her hair free? The thought made her smile. Perhaps that’s why no one bothered her on her way here.  
“Aloy!” A cheer went up, her name uttered from thirty,forty mouths, at least. Torches, knives, and ale mugs were lifted in her honor as she appeared, drowning out the soft, merry music that was paying nearby. There was a long table set, made of red wood and set with faceted glad on the edges. Benches housed the rears of the entire Vanguard and several of the king’s personal guard. Several of Miridian’s more lower class citizens were there, one of them with her arm in a sling, smiling from ear to ear. So Marad was right, even humble heroes were being honored. Avad stood at the head of the table, greeting her with a beckoning gesture. He looked terribly pleased at her appearance, motioning for her to sit at his side. She noticed Erend opposite her and smiled a greeting. He was staring openly, and she could tell by the slight flush of his skin that he had had quite a few drinks before her entrance.  
“You look refreshed!” Avad noted as the table fell back into a dull roar of war stories and jokes. He means I look domesticated, Aloy told herself, but she smiled at the King politely. “Eat, and regain your strength, beautiful huntress. Tonight we celebrate our victory!” His words were echoed by another cheer. She must have come late, she noted. People were already well into their food and drink. Several of the soldiers were wearing fresh medals, and some civilians wore sashes of red on their upper arms. “Red is to mark them for their heroic deeds. The sashes will allow them any resources they may need in the coming months as a reward for their actions.”  
Aloy nodded slowly, tearing a chunk of roasted boar from the pile on her plate. Relax, she told herself, almost desperately. You’re safe. This is Aloy’s day, remember? Again, she found herself hungrier than she’d expected. The boar didn’t last long, and though the ale burned her throat and fizzed in her nose, she gulped down her whole mug. The soldier to her left was telling a story about the giant goose that lived in the field behind his home that had killed a Watcher. She was amazed by the story until she realized that Erend hadn’t said a word since she’d arrived. Startled she didn’t notice sooner, Aloy lifted her eyes to his face. He was staring at her with a wavering gaze as if it pained him to look. Returning his stare affected him very little. He didn’t smile, but his expression softened. He looked almost… proud? No, that wasn’t it… His pale grey eyes finally resting on hers, his lips opened as if to speak.  
A hand covered hers. She looked at it: the skin was an olive tone. Avad. The touch was brief, almost reassuring, before the Sun King stood. He didn’t have to clear his throat, or make any other indication he wished to speak: as soon as he was on his feet, the table fell silent. All eyes rested on Avad… all eyes except two.  
“Citizens! Visitors! Friends and family!” He called, raising his glass. “Tonight, we bask in the light of the Sun. We thrive in her mercy, for she saw fit we see another night. We make the best of it, before the light returns and we once more shed sweat to restore our great city from the horde’s attack.” A series of whooping cheers, particularly from the Vanguard, replied, and more ale was poured. Even Aloy found herself smiling. She was feeling fuzzy, warm, and for the first time in a long time… happy.  
“In this time of sorrow, of hope, and of victory,” Avad went on. “I have come to the realization that there will need to be change. As I mentioned earlier tonight, I will appoint a Chief of Docks, who will expand our marina, offering a more efficient and secure way to evacuate the city should peril, Sun forbid it, strike again. Secondly, my good and loyal friend Erend,” Avad turned to the Osaram, who snapped out of his trance-like state to look up at the Sun King with confusion. “Will from now on be known as General of not only the Vanguard, but of all of Miridian’s militia and navy.” A surprised and ecstatic cheer went up from the crowd as it jostled Erend with congratulations, who smiled and toasted the Sun King.  
“Lastly,” Avad went on as the cheering died down, “I acknowledge the reason we are all here today, breathing, drinking and speaking. The huntress Aloy, who saved us all from the plague of Hades and the darkness it brought to the land,” he paused as another unrelenting roar went up. It didn’t die down quickly, and Aloy shook her head, smiling despite herself. She didn’t deserve all of this… “Aloy,” Avad went on, his voice echoing through the courtyard, his hand coming to rest on her shoulder. “Who I have asked to be my wife.”  
The roar that went up wasn’t nearly loud enough to drown out the roar of blood in her ears as she gaped up at the Sun King. Rough hugs and pats of congratulations sparked her bruises back to life, but the pain was distant compared to her shock. How could he say something like that? She did her best to push away the hands that wanted to shake hers, quickly grabbing up her mug and pretending to keep it from being spilled in the chaos, hoping it would make her more immune to the glancing affections. “Avad,” she hissed a warning to the King of the Sun as he sat back down next to her.  
He spread his hands in a placating gesture. “For the people,” he admitted, a look of gentle apology on his face. “They need you.”  
You would want for nothing, his words echoed in her head as he once more rested his hand on hers. He was attempting to reassure her, she knew. It didn’t help. For a Sun King, his hand was pretty cold. Aloy could only stare down at her plate as the festivities around her continued. Suggestions for the wedding celebration trickled past her ears, and she tried to ignore them. When she finally looked up from her plate, Erend was gone. 


	4. Chapter 4

If she thought she was physically exhausted the day before, it was her mind that suffered the wounds after the feast. She had a newfound respect for ale now, and saw its use to remove herself from a situation while still being in the center of it a boon she hadn’t expected. With every mug, Avad’s offer seemed less ridiculous. He _was_ a good king. Would she be a good queen? She certainly wouldn’t be expected to be confined to the palace, would she? These questions and more buzzed in her head all through the night, even while the partygoers began to drift away. Servants crept up to empty plates and clean the freshly abandoned place settings, and the music went from lively to something more subdued, a lament to those who lost their lives in the battle. Avad, ever composed, drank and ate lightly, but shared in the conversations and merriment around him. When he could, get attempted to involve Aloy, but didn’t take long before realizing she would more rather listen than speak.

In reality, she longed for sleep. Perhaps she’d even do it intentionally this time. Erend was probably doing just that, she thought. He had the right idea. She was already getting used to Avad’s hand on hers. His skin was like dry paper, but he had the callouses of a warrior. After all, he had led the siege against his father, the mad Sun King. He was a good king, she reminded herself. She imagined those dead leaf hands on her body and shuddered a little. Did… he expect that? Of course he does, she reprimanded herself. And if she didn’t?

She chewed her lip, and Avad leaned in. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I can have someone prepare a suite in the castle for you,” he told her softly. “You look tired. Another bath can be drawn up. Please stay here, I assure you will be much more comfortable than at Olin’s.” His tone was measured, he was letting her know she wouldn’t be bothered: by him or anyone.

No, no, no, Aloy’s mind screamed. She just wanted to get out of there, away from everyone. She had to think. After all, there was a lot to think about. Carefully, she extricated her hand from beneath Avad’s, but patted it to make the withdrawal seem less harsh. “My things are at Olin’s. I would very much like to go back tonight,” she admitted. "I must thank the healer who attended me.” Surely she could come up with another excuse. After all, none of them were lies.

Avad’s expression showed no surprise. “Very well,” he sighed. “Please be careful on your way back. You’re a very important woman, Aloy. I insist you bring a guard with…”

Quickly, Aloy waved him off, as well as the man who stepped curtly from his post behind the king. “No,” she said flatly. “I feel fine. I just need some quiet right now.” She didn’t look back as she stepped out of the courtyard, because she knew she’d want to activate her Focus in the dark, and it was no longer part of her. She listened as she walked: no one followed. At least Avad respected her privacy, if not her choices.

Outside the gates, the air felt cooler, and she welcomed the darker streets. She measured that the night was half through, and so the revelers and mourners all had begun to slink home. The ones who still have them, she thought, remembering how many tents were needed to be erected for the citizens alone. The occasional campfires were still burning, and some of the Vanguard had not quite found their ways to bed. Aloy spied a few here and there among them, finishing up the stories (and drinks) they had started at the feast. She was glad Olin’s place was in a more secluded part of town, so she wasn’t surprised to see the frequency of small camps die out the farther she went. One camp, though, caught her eye. A lone figure sat beside it.

“Erend?” She was glad to see him. She hadn’t realized it was his voice she’d missed among all the ones she’d been hearing all evening. His back was to her, but she knew he held a mug in his hands by the way he hunched over it. “Couldn’t sleep?”

He barely turned to acknowledge her. “Figured you’d be staying in the palace,” he said, almost tersely. He turned to look back to the fire, and she immediately knew something was wrong. She moved to settle next to him on the carved bench donated by one of the wealthier merchants for public use.

“You know I don’t belong there,” she told him, almost surprised at his assumption. “Avad’ll understand. I need… quiet.” She squinted her eyes at the fire, glad none of the warm fuzziness from the drinks had gone away. She could feel her injuries preparing to assault her senses at the first light. “It’s just so loud.”

“Yeah,” came his thick voice, tinted slightly with the alcohol he was still drinking. She wondered how much he’d had. He reminded her of when she’d met him after Ersa’s death. Only he’d been more glad to see her. She felt a twinge of loss. I needed his smile, she realized. It would have made things better.

A long silence came then, with the fire crackling merrily. She welcomed it, let it settle like snow among her thoughts. He spoke first. “He’ll treat you right. Avad’s a good man.” She glanced at him, and saw his whole body shift as he sighed. He wore his armor, of course. Always ready. He’d cleaned up nicely, as she had, though a large bruise still lingered on the side of his head and one of his fingers was wrapped in a splint. His eyes were sunken… he must be as tired as she was.

“That’s what he keeps telling me. I know he would. I just…” She reached up to finger a bead in her hair, only to remember she’d taken them out. Smooth, brushed red silk met her fingers, almost startling her. It’d been a while since it’d been clean, after all. She felt… lighter. “He says it’s for the people. That they love me, and I could be the link to make peace between the tribes.”

He looked at her then, a small smile pulling at one side of his lips. “Can’t argue that. You’re… well you’re certainly something else.” He takes a pull from his mug, seemingly to stifle any other words he’d thought to say.

“Something else,” she scoffed. “You’re right. I am. Not a Nora, not a Carja. Definitely not an Oseram. Doubt even the Banuk would have me at this rate. How can someone who isn’t a part of anyone unite everyone?”

Erend seemed to wince. “That’s not what I meant, Aloy,” he replies. “You’re…” Scratching at his chin, he looked frustrated. “Look, I know you haven’t spent a lot of time with a bunch of people. I get it. You like your space. Perhaps Avad’ll let you have it but… trust me when I tell you this…” He looked at her again, studying her face in the firelight. “Queen? You’re gonna hate the paperwork.”

The joke made her laugh, suddenly, stunning her out of her mood. “And you? Mister General? You’ve got some paperwork of your own.”

His smile suddenly turned to a frown. “I’m not taking the job.”  
She blinked at him, sure she misheard. “What?”

He drained the rest of his mug. “I’m leavin’. Headed home, I guess. Maybe I’ll run into Olin. Get some closure with him.

The idea of being at the palace without him hit her like a snakebite, and left her a little breathless. “What do you mean, leaving? You can’t leave,” is all she thought to say. She heard her voice raise a little. He couldn’t just leave her now, with Avad.  “You love Meridian.”

Her words seemed to sting him more deeply than she’d intended. He stood up sharply. “Don’t tell me what I love, girl,” he hissed. “You’re not queen yet.”

Though his back was to her, his tone took her unawares. Suddenly, she was an enemy. She was a bandit who had an Oseram Vanguard angry with her, and that was very dangerous. She was suddenly acutely aware of her lack of armor, and her muscles tensed. She shot up like a rocket, her hands gripped into fists. “And when I am, I’ll send every soldier I have after you to bring your mopey ass back here, so don’t you “girl” me!” She hissed through her clenched teeth.

Erend turned to square himself against her anger, but it wasn’t reflected on his face. His hands hung limply at his sides. His expression was only sorrow. “I can’t stay here,” he said with finality. “Not with you so close but locked up in a palace with… the Sun King.”

Slowly, she lowered her hands, baffled. “You… could visit whenever you wanted,” she told him. “I could see you every day if you wanted.”

Exasperation filled his voice. “Aloy,” he pleaded, reaching out to take her slightly raised fists. His hands enclosed them completely. The metal splint on his finger was hot from the fire. “I don’t think you know what you’ve agreed to.”

Now she was getting frustrated. She wished he’d just say what was wrong. She missed his smile, the way he squeezed her shoulder. His hands on hers felt like that: comforting. “Tell me,” she pleaded. “I don’t know… why you’re upset. I want you to stay here with me and Avad.” With me, she corrected herself. Fuck Avad. 

He released her hand, reaching out to finger a lock of her hair. “You changed it,” he observed, ignoring her plea. “Your hair is so… beautiful. Never cut it.” His voice was still heavy with ale, and this close, she could smell it on his breath. She watched him carefully. Was he just a moody drunk? She wondered.

“You need sleep,” she observed. “I need sleep. We’ve had… a little too much…” She began to trail off. His hand hadn’t left her hair. She sort of wished he wasn’t wearing gloves. She became acutely aware that it wasn’t heat from the fire she was feeling, but the heat from him. “To… “ The lips that pressed against hers were much softer than she’d imagined. She didn’t know what to do, so she froze. He didn’t seem to notice, and continued to drink her in as if she were the best ale he’d ever tasted, using his gentle grip to crush her mouth to his. Never in her life had she been this close to another person. She’d seen interactions of others plenty of times, but never thought it looked enjoyable. She was so wrong.

Carefully, she pressed up to her toes, wanting more but not sure how to get it. Her hands came up to his chest, finding rings of steel there from his armor. It wasn’t all armor, she could sense from the heat that even his chest was hard and dense, the chest of a fighter. She wondered how the rest of him felt. How he looked without his armor on. She’d never imagined such thing would go through her mind.

Her response seemed to startle him, and he pulled back suddenly, but not far. His breath brushed her lips as he spoke. “I don’t need sleep,” he boasted. “I need you.”

She needed air. Her hands on his chest gave her leverage to arch back, her eyes half closed. She felt more drunk than she ever had with the ale. She could feel his grip tighten as she moved away, possessively, then release her. She had to gasp the cool night air, letting it clear the fuzz like static from her mind. She didn’t know what to say, folding her arms over herself in a hug. Suddenly, she was cold.

“That’s why,” Erend told her, his head lowered and his eyes watching her, dazed, from beneath his brows. “That’s why.” He threw his wooden mug into the fire and turned, treading silently off into the darkness.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Aloy slept fitfully that night. Her stomach, unused to all of the alcohol, rebelled but thankfully she wasn’t sick all over Olin’s beautifully furnished bedroom. Her thoughts tormented her, caused her heart to race and her brow to bead with sweat that wasn’t all from the night’s heat. So, that’s why he’d been so upset. What she thought was a typical Oseram way of things was more than just casual flirting. She wondered if he’d known beforehand about Avad’s plan to announce an engagement, one she hadn’t even agreed to yet. Surely he wouldn’t have spoken to her first about it…

The honking of a small troop of geese outside her window told her it was dawn, but she was already awake. Her face still tingled where Erend’s beard had pressed against it. She tried to wash the feeling off with a splash of water, now warm from resting too long in the basin. She donned her clothes, picking up her Focus from where she’d abandoned it the day before. No, it hadn’t been so bad. She had a feeling tracking wouldn’t be needed of her for a while. Carefully, she set it in one of the ornate boxes Olin had stored nearby, housing some trinkets from an old ruin delve he’d gone on before she’d helped him rejoin his family. It fit right in with the other pieces there and she was confident it’d be safe. Shutting the lid, she left Olin’s house… only to practically trip over Blameless Marad.

“Good morning, little savior,” the advisor greeted her jovially, though his face always remained even. “How are you feeling this morning? The Sun King wishes to break fast with you in the parapets.”

“Of course he does,” Aloy didn’t try to hide the tone of anger in her voice, falling in with the older man as they began to wind through the streets towards the palace. She began to arrange her hair as they walked, and Marad handed her a wisp of silk to tie the end of her long braid.

“Avad told me what happened,” admitted the advisor. “He is aware of your discomfort in the matter. Let me assure you that coming to an agreement with the King is in the best interest of yourself, your tribe, and the people.” That almost sounded like a threat, and she glared at him, a little shocked. “Avad’s a reasonable man,” he continued, not returning her stare. “The union would be… political, at worst. You may learn to love him as I do. Until then, Carja will see the Nora as Savages, and the Nora will remain secluded from our light.”

“Political?” She snorted. “A Nora with a crown and Carja clothes… like a boar in a skirt! I’ll certainly be a sight to travel to Miridian to see! Will Avad charge a shard or two for them to see me ride a Strider about the city as well?” She realized how harsh her tone was when Avad’s walking slowed. He twined his fingers together behind his back.

“You have intrigued us all, Huntress. But I can assure you, you’re far more than just an oddity. Please, join us in the palace for breakfast, and hear the Sun King out. Now is the time for discussion, not war.” Aloy only huffed in response, and the remainder of the journey to the palace was traveled in silence. Repairs and restorations were already underway, and they passed through the market already set up with its temporary displays and shouting shopkeepers. She looked around, but saw none of the Nora. They must have all left, she noted with sadness. Just like Erend.

The sun was just starting to shimmer off of the angles and metal beams surrounding the parapet looking out into the city. Large, overstuffed pillows surrounded a low table filled with food, all resting on a rug that was larger than the lodge in which she’d grown. Avad reclined on a sofa, resting an arm on his bent knee as he gazed out over the people bustling like bees in the city. Aloy was shocked that he looked almost… normal. His headdress rested on the table next to him, and his black, curly hair was cut short. His silks were expensive-looking, but certainly not ‘Kingly”. The lines she’d learned to be traditionally Carja were drawn about his eyes, but otherwise, he seemed more an upstart prince than a King.

“Aloy,” came his greeting as he unfolded himself to stand, taking her hand in his. “I’m so glad Marad was able to convince you to join me. I hope you got enough sleep last night… the Vanguard is known to throw parties in celebration of parties… I am surprised to see the streets are not once more burning.” His smile was soft, disarming.

She allowed him a smile. It was small, but genuine. “It was…” Her fingertips tingled a little, remembering the hammered steel of Erend’s armor against her. “Fine. It was fine. It’s always easy to sleep on a full stomach.” The smells from breakfast were intriguing her… she knew there’d be things there she’d never eaten before.

“Come and sit. Marad, please bring me Aloy’s gift.” She allowed him to lead her to one of the large pillows, settling down upon it cross-legged as he regained his seat once more.

“Another gift?” Aloy asked warily, giving an experimental poke to a pile of something slushy and orange on her plate.

Avad nodded. The sun gleamed in his oiled hair as if glancing off of the polished lens of a Watcher. He was fairly handsome, after all. Fit and olive-skinned, his close-shorn goatee and mustache kept immaculate. A girl could do worse. “I had commissioned this for you when I found that you had sacrificed your weapon at the Spire.” The King gestured as Blameless Marad knelt next to her, offering up a long, thin item draped in silk spanning both his arms. She knew what it was before she revealed it, but nonetheless was shocked at what she saw.

Hardened steel, folded so many times it rippled with patterns seen only in swirled machine oil, housed a spearpoint made out of a black stone, chipped to be almost translucent at the edges. She could tell it was sharper than anything she’d ever owned, just by looking at it. Nora patters were inlayed along the elegant half, gold gleaming among the rippling steel. “It’s beautiful,” she breathed despite herself, reaching out to trace her fingers along the smooth metal as it rested in the blue silk. Solid, but light, she determined. Not just a trinket. This would kill. She lifted it in her fingers, tilting it back and forth in her hands.

Avad’s expression was one of pure pleasure. Even Marad seemed satisfied as he folded the silk across his arm and made his way hastily from the parapet. The two were almost sickeningly alone, but for some reason the comfort of a spear in her hand, however cold, eased her anxiety. She set it by her side. “I would say I didn’t deserve it,” she told him, taking a sip of some exotic juice in a cup near her plate. “But I’m sure we’d just end up arguing.”

Avad tilted his head, pursing his lips together as he shrugged. “I suppose we may have several arguments before the morning is finished,” he admitted, tone soft. “But a Nora needs a spear, Queen or not.” She flinched. She was beginning to hate that word, Queen.

“You had no right to take me for granted last night,” she told him flatly, poking around her plate. “It would be a great embarrassment for you if I denied your proposal.” She ate a large bite of fruit, her eyes on him to show him that it could have very well have been a threat.  The King sighed.

“This is true, my beautiful bird,” he rolled his forged chalice between his hands. “Which is why I’d hoped you would have stayed in the palace last night. We had much to speak of.”

“Well, I’m hungry,” she announced. “So speak now.” She began to eat, stuffing her mouth with a variety of the fresh foods. All were delicious, and her sapped body welcomed the sustenance with exuberance.  

Avad, however, didn’t seem interested in the food. “When I first asked you to stay with me, you saw right through me. You knew Ersa was my ticket to win the Oseram over and now that she’s gone...” He cleared his throat. So… that still hurt him, she noted. But never as much as it hurt Erend. “I’m afraid that idea is no longer available. Not only did I lose Ersa, but now my best Vanguard, Erend, has gone.”

She feigned surprise. “Did something happen to him?” She attempted to play it cool, barely slowing in her pace. Her chest ached. So he really did leave…

“He has returned to his people. He left early this morning.” A pained sigh, and the Sun King rubbed his temples with his fingertips. “He is free to come and go as he wills, of course. The city owes him a debt beyond what can be paid. But I needed him. And now with the Vanguard… my militia… without a leader.” He looks at her pointedly. “There’s never before been a Sun Queen. My need for you here has increased tenfold. Not only would you build the bridge to contact with the Nora, but my men look up to you in battle. As Queen, you would oversee the army.”

She didn’t realize she’d stopped chewing. Thoughts flickered through her mind faster than the sparks of a downed machine. She pointedly set down her cup. “You don’t love me,” she stated flatly. “And I certainly do not love you.”

If the Sun King was pained by the statement, he didn’t show it. He blinked slowly, his eyes flickering over her hair. “That… is a small matter,” he admits. “Many unions have been made for the good of the people. Love… is less important than you think.” He picked up his chalice, turning to look out over the valley. Aloy’s expression softened. He had that look on his face, the one he had whenever he spoke of Ersa. The one Erend always had when he looked at her.

“Rost didn’t talk about it much,” she chimed in, after several moments of soft birdsong accompanied her breakfast. At his confused glance, she continued. “The man who raised me. The nuances of growing up a woman were always a tough subject for him. I know he loved me, but he also told me stories of the … other kind. Why people did take mates, get married. I’ve begun to see what he was talking about.” She instantly thought of Teb. The young boy always looked to be swallowing his heart when she was around. She smiled a little wistfully. If she’d grown up part of the tribe, perhaps that would have gone differently.

Avad nodded. “I have seen it,” he said, to her surprise. Her eyes dropped instantly to her plate. “The way the men in the streets look at you. Even poor Erend,” his laughter was deep, teasing. “The big fool falls in love every week! I was never able to keep up with their names.”

She could feel her cheeks turning a bright red. So she was the love of the week. Avad leaned in, peering at her face. “Believe me when I say that I would consider myself blessed to my dying day to have you as my Queen,” he says, a soft expression on his face as he reached out to rest a hand on her shoulder. “I would never hurt you, never make you do anything you didn’t want to do. You would be Miridian’s Queen, but my Queen as well. You would have the power to save entire tribes.”

She couldn’t meet his dark eyes. Fidgeting, she had begun to rub her hands together in her lap. “I must… do some things first,” she tells him. “I told myself when this was all over… I… need to visit a grave.”

Avad’s face showed sorrow, but a shrewd flash of victory was in his eyes. “Of course, my love,” he tells her. Dry, cold fingers brushed her cheek as he smiled, gaining his feet. “Take the time you need. We have much work to do here, and with a royal wedding to look forward to, I’m sure it will bolster the hearts of many.”

He left her there at the table, but she could see him pass Marad just inside the doorway to the palace. The advisor came out and assured her that a room still remained, as well as clothes and anything else she needed for her journey, but she ignored him. Lifting her new spear in one hand, she made her way down to the city to prepare her armor.


	6. Chapter 6

 

                Everything was right where she left it. Her Focus settled back into place against her temple, chirping with power, and she fought to keep from activating it for no reason. It was a crutch she needed to learn to wean herself from. Parts from her old spear, before the one Sylens had given her which rested in the heart of Hades on the Spire, were rigged on her new weapon, making it more familiar. One final look about Olin’s old quarters affirmed that she may never have been there, and she walked out the door. Surprisingly, no one bothered her this time.

                It was a long trek, but she knew where to go. As she left the city, guards saluted her sharply, allowing her to pass. Would that change if she became Queen? she wondered. Would they always ask where I was going, and why? Finding herself out of shape with the rest she’d enjoyed the past few days, Aloy pushed on until she was jogging. Reports had come in from across the land that though the machines were no longer aggressive, they were rather skittish and tended to run from humans. She intended to test that rumor on the first Strider she saw.

                It wasn’t long before her Focus hissed about the presence of a herd not far from the main road. She wasn’t going to be able to override these, she reminded herself. But it’d have to be approached like one of the furred or feathered animals, and she’d have to win their trust the hard way.

                She’d managed to snag another loaf of the honeyed bread before leaving the city, and while she crept through the thorny brush, she carefully tore a chunk from it. Her knees, thankfully, no longer ached from the war against Hades, so she crouched lithely in the trees until she was nearly upon the closest Strider.

                Against her strongest instincts, she stepped from the shadows. The Strider, startled, jerked its head from the patch of clover it’d been enjoying, the lens of its huge optic narrowing on her position. “Easy,” she cooed, holding out the bread. She was beginning to sweat. Fighting a Strider first thing in the afternoon wasn’t something she was looking forward to.

                The Strider made a whirring sound, servos humming as it readied itself for flight. Strange, though, she noted. It hadn’t sounded an alarm, though it was looking right at her. Perhaps the rumors were true? It took one heavy step towards her, then another. A twitch and once more it danced away. She advanced, still holding the treat, biting her lip as if attempting to encourage its hunger. “C’mon. There’s more where this came from. I scratch your back, you scratch mine.”

                She almost sighed with relief as the great neck stretched out, and a series of tiny panels opened on the nose of the lanky machine. Tediously, they angled to pinch around the bread and feed it up into its head, and she could hear a hissing as the digestion process was initiated. She chuckled with nervous optimism as the thing thumped another step towards her, stretching, emitting a low whistle that sounded almost like a question.

                “Of course you can have the rest,” she promised, reaching out to set her hand carefully above the Strider’s optics. “But then you need to do something for me.”

                ______

 

She so missed moving this quickly. The machine beneath her traveled more smoothly now, it seemed, now that the Derangement had seemed to pass. Its subroutines were functioning at optimal capacities.  It seemed almost glad to carry her, as if it’d been waiting for a job, a purpose. The wind whipped her long braid behind her as she felt the heavy thrumming of the Strider’s legs hitting the hard dirt of the road beneath them.  Occasionally, curious yellow lights would flicker to life as the machines still roaming the area were distracted by their passing… but not one of them turned red.

She activated her focus, pulling up one of the old maps she’d archived from the last Long-Neck she’d overridden. There. That was where she was going. With a gesture, she found she was able to communicate the coordinates to her mount, who chirped in affirmation. “Well, that’s new!” She shouted with joy into the wind as they practically flew across the plains.

It took days to get there. She camped when she was sleepy, and the Strider did not stray far, merely replenishing its organic stores when it found a tasty patch of grass. Occasionally, it would nudge her for another piece of bread or fruit, which it seemed to prefer. It was such a relief to be with something that didn’t expect her to speak to it, agree with it, or, thankfully, marry it. She relished in the night sounds she’d missed since entering Meridian. It even smelled better out here, she admitted. She’d get used to the smell in Meridian eventually. It’d just take time.

The day of their arrival, the sun was just rising behind the logs holding up the sign that read “Sobek Farm”. There wasn’t much left of the settlement other than that. Stone bricks, thankfully, withstood the test of time to show that it had once been a livable house, though now needed a roof and perhaps a few holes filled in. But it wasn’t the house she was there to see.

There, her Focus told her. Was Elizabet Sobek. Still clad in the Homeostasis suit she wore when she left the Zero Dawn facility, though it hung on the body like canvas over poles. Aloy felt like she was looking down into the reflection of herself in a pool. It was almost impossible to see the woman as another person, after having learned so much. Her eyes blurred slightly, and she swallowed. She deserved more than to be abandoned here.

Rocks were plentiful on the ranch, and so rocks were what made the majority of Elizabet’s grave. Not far from where she grew up in the farmhouse, Aloy settled the woman to rest. My mother? My sister? No. I’m burying myself, she lamented. The trinket she’d found in Elisabet’s hand was warm from the sun, and she hung it on the headstone with care, letting the globe catch the last rays of the sun of day. Fitting, the huntress noted, wondering just how long it might be before she could return to this place. The day had been spent in a blur as she’d buried the scientist’s corpse, partially from lack of attention and partially from the tears building in her eyes. She dried them now.

The trek back towards Meridian was much slower. She let the Strider walk, in no hurry to face what she realized might be the rest of her life. She hated herself for blaming it on Avad. After all, there was no way he could force her to be Queen. She was letting it happen. Her time with Sylens’ coaching echoed through her mind. He had not hesitated to tell her that there were times that the world did not revolve around her, and this was certainly one of those times. After all, her quest was complete. The entire purpose for her being was over with. She was just like everyone else now, only with less purpose. At least this way, she can do her people a favor. The Nora needed an alliance with the Carja, that much was true. They would hate it and they would complain, but they’d never have to change as much as she’d had.

                The sky opened up, and rain began to fall. The Strider continued on the path, angling the panels of its body to facilitate the most efficient way to shed the water from its housing. Aloy dragged a cloak from her pack and pulled on the hood. Too late, she spied a spark of red, just as the hood blocked her side vision.

                A scream split the air, tearing it apart as Aloy dove from the Strider’s back and into the mud. It reared, answering with its own scream as a trail of white smoke fizzed past its head and towards a tree behind it, shattering it with an explosion that seemed to vibrate the raindrops around them. Aloy, already panting, scrambled for cover, her hand going up to activate her Focus. Orange shapes, humans, surrounded them. How had she let herself get so careless?

                One of the orange shapes stepped into focus as Aloy pulled her bow free, nocking an arrow. The big man was covered nearly head to toe in metal plates, and on his shoulder was the largest weapon Aloy’d ever seen. Too late, she recognized it from a Destroyer. The arrow thrummed as it left her bow, just as another scream pierced the air. The missiles passed eachother, but she never saw if she had hit her mark. The explosion hurled her yards through the rain, smacking her against the gnarled bark of an unyielding tree. The last thing she saw was a man in Oseram armor giving a fatal blow to her Strider, sending sparks through the night.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Another cage. This one dark and dank. She could feel where the wet stone had seemed foul smelling water into her clothes as there wasn’t even so much a sprinkle of straw to cushion her. Her ears were no longer ringing, but the dripping of condensation sounded muffled. Cold. Carefully, she opened her eyes. Pain shot through her head, but she pushed herself to sit up.

Someone’s legs were stretched out before her, blooded, and one was bent at an odd angle. Not someone’s legs, she realized. Her own. The pain rushed through her as if it’d waited for her to be conscious. She gasped with it, eyes watering, but it didn’t keep her from seeing the glint of white bone. Her left leg was broken, horribly, and her bone had slashed through both flesh and armor. The skin around it felt hot. She moaned at the attempt to move it, to wriggle her toes. Nothing.

Movement caught her eye. A man in armor, helmet covering his face, stood up from a chair outside her cell. She hadn’t seen him there. Without a word, he stepped out the creaking, wooden door and out of sight. Quickly, she reached up to activate her focus. Unsurprisingly, it wasn’t there. Squinting in the dark would be the only way to see if she were alone. “Hello,” she whispered desperately. Nothing. She could see other cells across the bare room, but the darkness beyond them was unmoving, unresponsive. Looks like she had the place to herself.

Again, carefully, she attempted to examine her wounds. Torchlight revealed her clothes ripped and bloodied, and her skin beneath not much better. Bruises covered her, and spiked burrs tangled her hair, as if she’d been dragged through brush. If she held still, her wounds were a dull ache she could tolerate. Her weapons were gone, but she glimpsed them on the table, not far from her cell. She smirked despite herself: so her captors weren’t smart.

It wasn’t long before she heard the heavy thunk of a door being unbarred, but instead of the guard she’d seen earlier, another man strode in. The door clunked shut behind him.

“Well well. The Nora’s awake.” The voice had no malice, but the large man smiled down at her with a sort of creepy aloofness. He was shirtless save for a large metal breastplate, and striped leather trousers held padding that might be able to stop arrows. His long beard was grey, but he did not seem old. His head was bald. When he grinned, three of his teeth glinted metallically in the light. “I assume you have questions.”

Well, that’s a first, Aloy noted, tightening her lips in a scowl. “Who are you?” She demanded.

“Name’s Rath, but that don’t really matter. I’m a Freebooter from the Claim. You’ve probably met a few of us in the past,” his chuckle indicated that he knew there was no “probably” about it. “Point is, you’re here per the orders of people with a lotta paranoia and a lotta shards.” He turned to spit into the corner of the room.

She wracked her memories for mention of the name, but found nothing. “You’re Oseram,” she noted, buying a little bit of time. Her eyes flicked to the table where her weapons lay. “Why did your men attack me? Do you not know who I am?” She tried not to let her pain show in her voice.

Rath moved to crouch near the bars of the cage, coming down to her level. “Of course I know who you are, fool,” he growled. “You think we just attack random Nora on the road? No, you’re special to someone. That’s why we were paid to find you and take you alive.”

Good… tell me everything, she thought. He was a proud man, the type that liked to brag. Perhaps he’ll let slip something he didn’t mean to. “Well congratulations. You got me. Now what?”

He seemed disappointed. “You don’t want to know who hired me? Shame, it’s a good story. Let’s just say a few of the Ealdormen in the Claim think it’s pretty suspicious that one of our own is murdered so soon after rumors of an upstart Nora who can tame machines. Now Ersa’s dead and he’s getting’ hitched to another outsider. Pretty interesting coincidence, no?”

Aloy shook her head, but stopped when it made her dizzy. “Dervahl killed Ersa,” she argued. “We were there. Erend and I. You know Erend? Find him, ask him. Does he know I’m here?”

“Oh, he will,” Rath replied. He seemed bored with crouching, instead moving to the chair by the table and dragging it forward with a foot. He sat on it backwards, draping his big arms over the backrest. “S’all part of the plan.” He picked at something in his teeth. “Erend’s a pretty influential guy with us, see. Just like his sister was. Now I don’t sit in on the Ealdorman meetings, most of my invitations to them get lost in the mail. But I do know that when they can’t agree on something, they tend to go with the worst case scenario. Seems some of them are convinced the whole thing with Dervahl was set up by you and your precious Avad to get Ersa killed, and you brought Erend along to vouch for ya. Poor idiot believes the whole thing.”

Her head fuzzy with pain, Aloy gritted her teeth. “And you? What do you think?”

The man emitted a whoosh of exasperation. “Pff, who cares what I think? I just get paid. You could be the sun king himself, wouldn’t make any difference to me. They know for the right price, I’d drop a house on my own sweet mother.” He leaned forward in his chair. Aloy wished she could shove it out from under him. His pale eyes took in her leg. “Part of my job is to rough you up a little. Seems like my men have already started the job.”

“Better let them finish it, if you want it done right,” she scoffed, putting more confidence in her chide than she felt. If they believed she was behind Ersa’s death, what was she doing here, rotting in a box? Surely once Erend found out, he’d settle the whole thing.

Rath guffawed. “Shame! So hard to find a girl with a sense of humor ‘round here.” He moved towards her things on the table. Picking up her bow, he inspected it for a long moment, then with a mighty swing of his arm, shattered it against the table. “First thing’s first. You may or may not be guilty of Ersa’s death. But after I’m done with you, you’ll admit to anything.”

Her eyes widened. So that was it. Torture. She glanced quickly at the spear Avad had given her, still resting against the wall. Sooner or later he’d have to open the door. If she were quick enough…

There was a click as Rath removed a small canister from his belt. He pressed a button on it, at the same time covering his mouth with a piece of cloth that was wrapped around his neck. “Goodnight, huntress,” he bade, rolling the canister through the bars of the cage. He was taking no chances.

She tried to hold her breath, but the acidic gas seeped into her open wounds, making her sob against her will. It burned her lungs, darkened her vision. Not again, she lamented as she fell backwards onto the floor.

 

When she awoke, groggy, several days later, she had no concept of how much time had passed. She remembered being awake for moments at a time in a haze. Rath was often there, along with several guards. She was no longer wearing her armor, but they at least did not leave her naked. She thought perhaps the shift they’d given her was once a sack for supplies: it stuck to her wounds and scratched her skin. She didn’t know if they fed her. Occasionally, she had used the corner of her room as a latrine, so she knew she must be getting food somehow. Moving was nearly impossible, but she did it. Her leg had not mended, and indeed the bone was still exposed. She supposed that was part of her torture, as well as the other things they did. They’d cut the pads of her feet, she assumed, to keep her from running away. They burned her hands, so she could not grip. Her face, they seemed to steer clear of: only focusing on parts of her that were not covered in clothing or gloves.

They cut her hair. She remembered that part. Rath seemed to enjoy it the most. He even picked all the burrs from it for her, commenting on its length and beauty. “You don’t see this color in our people,” he’d noted, almost maternally as chunks of silken locks fell to the floor. “Perhaps I’ll make a bracelet for my daughter.

“What do you want from me,” she muttered through cracked lips. She asked this often, though she knew the answer. Patiently, Rath would pause whatever he was doing, and ask her the same question. 

“Who killed Ersa?”

“Dervahl.”

“Wrong answer.” And so it would continue. The cuts were stitched, the bruises poulticed. She would heal only for it to go on all over again. She knew she was dying, but it was not from the beatings. She could no longer feel her broken leg, and she knew from the fever glossing over her vision and the color of her wound, it had gone bad. She could not escape, even if she could withstand the pain of her feet, her hands. They moved her from cell to cell while she was unconscious; she never seemed to have her bearings when she woke up. She needed time, but she knew her wits were slowly abandoning her.

“It was me,” she mumbled one day, her eyes barely focusing on the bowl of water so close and yet beyond her reach. Rath leaned forward in his chair, excited.

“Excuse me?”

“I killed Ersa. Avad and I planned it from the beginning.” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had water. Every fiber of her being screamed for it. Rath pushed the bowl a little closer.

“I could have sworn it was Dervahl who’d done it,” Rath mused, leaning back again. “Are you telling me you’ve been _lying_ this whole time?”

“Please,” she lifted her arm, reaching for the bowl. Rath considered it for a few moments. Then he reached out to take the bowl, tilting it to pour half on the ground at her feet, letting it mingle with the blood there.

“You shouldn’t lie,” the big man chided her, handing the now nearly empty bowl to her. She gulped ferociously. “You’re strong, girl. I’m sure you’ve heard that. But it’s not me you have to convince. It’s Erend.”

She blinked, unsure if she were hearing correctly.

“The Ealdormen need him on their side if they are to arrange a coup. He is, after all, a Vanguardsmen. But he’s never going to believe one of us. That’s where you come in.”

She tried to scoff, but blood filled her mouth. She’d forgotten about where they’d cut her tongue. She spat. “He wouldn’t believe it from me either. He SAW her.” Suddenly, she remembered. He didn’t see her, not at first. She was the first one past the noise-making weapon that was keeping Ersa captive. She could have done anything before Erend had gotten to her cell.

Rath seemed satisfied as he watched her face. “Then you’d better convince him, girl. Because without Erend on our side, we have no use for him otherwise.” He stood up, tucking his thumbs into his belt. “I don’t think I have to explain what that means, correct? Perhaps maybe I do. Convince him, or the both of you die.” He left her then in the tiny stone room she’d been kept, barring the door behind him.


	8. Chapter 8

 

She wasn’t sure how long she was left there. No windows or access to the sky told her. The torchlight through the edges of the wooden door were barely discernible but unwavering. She could tell her wounds were healing, but her leg was worsening. She drifted in and out of consciousness, sweating while at the same time frozen from cold. Once, she awakened to find a fresh bowl of water and hot food on the table nearby. Barely able to believe it, she ate her fill, but it didn’t stay in her stomach for long. She was so very sick, and she knew this would be where she died.

She wondered if, in a few hundred years, someone would find her bones and wonder who she was.

She barely heard the unblocking of the door as she rested, head down on her arms on the table. A pile of clothing covered the back of her head, sending her into darkness. She realized it was her armor.  “Up,” came Rath’s voice. “You have a visitor.” She was shocked to see him handing her her spear. Why not, she realized. What was she going to do with it? Her strength had left her, and she hissed in pain when her hand closed around the cold metal. She could barely lift it. “Get dressed,” her captor ordered patiently. “We wait for you outside.” He began to walk out the door. “I hope your memory hasn’t fled, girl,” he paused, speaking over his shoulder. “You’d better make this convincing.”

She took a long time to dress. Most of it was fairly easy, but her leg… she cried out when she tightened her boots, hearing the bone crunch. At least it will steady her, some. She could walk. Her spear offered support, but she had to lean heavily upon it. She was reminded of one of the Matriarchs, hunched over their canes.

The light was too much. For a long while, she didn’t step out of the building where she’d been kept. It was cold, and snow had begun to fall from the grey sky, though it melted when it hit the yellow, muddy grass. The breeze felt good on her feverish forehead. Carefully, she picked her way out into the courtyard of the fort she realized she was in. In fact, it looked almost familiar. Rath was there, waiting, with half of a dozen other guards. He beckoned her over, watching her gait critically. “Stand here,” he pointed, his face grim, and he stood behind her, his hand on her shoulder. A show of authority, she realized.

They didn’t have to wait long. Aloy shivered despite her furs. Her breaths were shallow, and more than once she felt she was going to collapse. Rath did not allow it, and squeezed her shoulder painfully whenever she faltered. All were silent, waiting, until a guard shouted the arrival. The great fort doors swung open.

There he was. “This better be good,” Erend shouted, his voice booming through the fort. “Do you know how far away…” His pale eyes settled on her, and at first showed disbelief. Then recognition. “Aloy?”

She wanted to break free of Rath and run, regardless of her sliced feet. She wanted to dive into Erend’s  arms. The man’s grip on her shoulder tightened. “Erend,” Rath greeted the other Oseram. “I believe you two have met?”

Aloy couldn’t meet Erend’s eyes as he rushed to her. He reached out, but one of Rath’s guards stopped him with a hand. “Whoa, Erend,” Rath warned. “Be careful, she’s dangerous. Took out a half dozen of my men when we found out the truth.”

Erend’s anger was obvious on his face, but now it was focused on Rath. “YOU did this? Who gave you the right! Aloy…” He tried to reach out again, but the guard stopped him.

Rath bared his metal teeth. “Aloy’d like to tell you a story, Erend. The Ealdormen had their suspicions. For once, seems they were right!”

Aloy’s whole body shook, but she did her best to hide it. Erend’s life depended on her performance. Carefully, she raised her head, giving her friend an even, aloof stare.

Erend’s fury melted into confusion. “Aloy… what’s going on?” He asked, his voice lowered, almost desperate. “What are you doing way out here?”

“I came looking for you,” she told him, her lips tight. Rath’s fingers dug into her collarbone with warning. She continued. “I knew there was a risk that if you returned to your clan. You’d find out the truth. That Avad hired Dervahl.”

Erend dropped his hands. He watched her carefully. “How… wh…” he stammered.

“You idiot!” She hissed. “When I saw how foolish you were to consider Olin a friend, I knew you’d be easy.” The hurt in his eyes tugged at her heart. She infused the pain into her voice, let it sound like anger. “You practically jumped into the trap we set, but you were _supposed_ to stay at the Palace. At the Vanguard. But no, you had to fall in _love_ with me.” She scoffed. Rath emitted a sharp sound of amusement and surprise. Erend looked like he was being torn asunder from head to crotch.

She closed her eyes to keep from looking at either of them. “So Avad sent me to get you. To finish you off if you wouldn’t return. I figured all you needed was another kiss before you came back with your tail between your legs, without any other suspicions about your sister’s death.” She felt like she might vomit again. “It was so…”  
                “Shut up,” snapped the Vanguardsman. “Shut up!” His voice cracked. He turned away, hands going to his head. “How did that woman end up so smart and yet have a fool like me for a brother?! I’ll believe anything!” He took off his helmet, hurling it to the ground. “I’m leaving. This has been… SO enlightening.” Erend shot a heated glance at Rath. “Thanks, Rath. But I think I woulda rather you let her find me and kill me.”  With a swirl of snow, Erend stalked out of the compound.

As soon as he was gone, Rath spun her around, elated. “Brilliant!” He looked like he might hug her. “Oh, girl, if only half of my jobs were as easy as this was. For a moment there I thought you really didn’t give a shit. But it’s obvious you prefer my friend there living.” He patted her on the head. “Come on inside, you look cold. We’ll have a little dinner before deciding what to do with you now.”

Numbly, Aloy followed Rath and his guards back into the building, grateful for the warmth. They didn’t bother to take her spear, she needed it desperately to walk. Every movement shot pain up her leg and through her spine. She had almost gotten used to it.

The men were cheerful. They were going to get paid, and paid well. Rath returned her to her cell, but almost apologetically. A mug of warm cider and a plate of hot food followed after.   
                “What will happen to me,” Aloy wondered, realizing only too late that the question was asked aloud. She tried the meat on her plate, but even the smell of it made her nauseas. Rath looked almost apologetic.

“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” he admitted. “That leg’s pretty well rotten. You can smell it from here.” He patted her feverish head before exiting her cell. “We’ll take care of you until the end, but get used to these walls. You won’t be seeing anything else after. On the up side, it’s gross enough to keep any of my men from laying a hand on you.” He locked the door shut and moved to join his comrades for dinner, where they drank their fill and told stories of past missions that were much harder than this one.

With a groan of defeat, Aloy pushed away her food. She curled up on the floor, wrapping her arms around her good leg. She was too dehydrated and exhausted to cry. Besides, what was the point? Eventually, she fell asleep to the soft clamor of men celebrating.

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

                His face was so close to hers, it felt like he was looking into her soul. She could almost feel his warm breath, a welcome respite from the cold around her. Hands touched her face, his cheek rested against hers, and she leaned into the scratchiness of his beard. Erend. He smelled like broken fuses and burnt metal. She missed that smell.

                At least she had her dreams. The memory of that night he kissed her, the last ditch attempt of someone seeking happiness. She didn’t want to think of what she’d done, but a part of her sought solace in the fact that because of what she’d done, he was alive. Able to seek happiness elsewhere. At least the time she had left were filled with the fever dreams, most of him. She drifted in and out of consciousness that night, her food untouched, Rath and his men drifting into silence as the torches began to burn down.

                His face floated over hers again, blurred, intangible. She could almost feel his arms curl beneath her, lifting her up, away from the dirty ground. It was almost real. Numbly, she opened her eyes completely. They were walking in the dark. Her cell door, in pieces, was being left behind. She was floating. Beneath her, the bodies of men lay crushed and mangled. Rath was among them, an arrow through his eye. Metal teeth glinted in a permanent grin.

                The snowy night’s cold snapped her awake. She cried out from the pain of her leg, clutching, finding the folds of Erend’s cloak and burying her face in it. Broken fuses and burnt metal. She could hear his voice, soothing, but couldn’t make out the words. Then it was louder, barking orders. Solders flocked around them. The Vanguard. They’d come for her. Blue lights flickered in the darkness. Machines. Striders, passive, curious, stood at the ready, some mounted by a few members of the Vanguard. Erend ordered them East.

                “Make the biggest mess you can!” He called, voice carried by the snowy wind. “The heavier the trail, the easier to follow. I want them to think we’re taking her back to the Nora. I’ll leave before the snow piles, make a less obvious trail. You, ride ahead, tell Avad what’s happened.” They were moving again. She found herself settled into a pile of thick furs, wrapped tightly against the cold. It did little to stop her shivering. “She’s in shock. We need to get going now! Kiln, you’re in charge!”

                She was safe. Wheels squeaked as the wagon she was curled up in started moving. Was that a Broadhead pulling it? They’d figured it out! The Machines _could_ be tamed again! With a sigh of relief, Aloy fell into the deepest sleep she’d known since Meridian.

 

                                                                                                                                                                                 ----------

They were camped at the edge of a stream. She could hear the gentle whisper of water. Birds were singing. It was significantly warmer: they must be much farther south. How long had she been asleep? She pushed herself upright, furs falling away. A groan escaped her as she looked at her leg. Her boot had been removed, baring the broken bone. The end of it, though still white and sharp, had retreated slightly back into place, but she knew it’d never be the same. She was still in the wagon, the broadhead pawing the ground nearby. A rustle caused her to look over towards the campfire blazing nearby. It was early evening, too early to stop, but too late to travel with someone injured.

He was there. Prodding the fire with a long stick, he forced flames to jump around the large metal pot sitting in the center, heating water inside of it. There was an almost antiseptic smell of herb and mushroom… she recognized the concoction. She wasn’t surprised: even a warrior should know basic first aid in the field.

He noticed her movements. A glance in her direction. “Aloy,” he kept his voice low, but it was music to her to hear it. He always said her name like it tasted good in his mouth. “Here I figured I’d have to start digging a deep hole. Glad you’re awake.”

She crawled to the edge of the wagon, despite the pain. They were alone, none of the other Vanguard were present. “You came for me,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

He scoffed. “Of course I did. Avad’d have my head if I abandoned you in that shithouse. Besides, you need a few more lessons in lying. A little while on the throne might rectify that.” He grinned a little wistfully.

Her heart sang. “You… didn’t believe me? Not even a little bit?”

He scratched at his chin with a gloved hand. “Only when you said you’d come after me for another kiss,” he teased. There he was, the Erend she knew. She smiled despite herself. She so wanted to get up. To hug him.

“My leg,” she murmured.

Erend put down the stick he’d been using and came over to her. His armor was still streaked with the blood of Rath’s men. They must have been travelling hard. He leaned over her, inspecting her break with a deep frown. “I saw that, before,” he admitted, pulling his glove from his hand. He pressed it against her knee, muttering at the heat of her skin. “Got some fever root, but I guess it might only get worse before it gets better. We’ve gotta reset it if you ever wanna walk again.”

“Reset it,” she murmured in disbelief. “You can do that?”

He rolled his eyes. “If I had shards for how often I’ve seen breaks like these in the field, I wouldn’t have to see any more. I’m no healer, but I can get you stable till we get you back to Meridian.”

He was taking her back. Despite everything, he was going to return her to Avad. She knew, though, that if anyone could heal her leg, it’d be the Avad’s healers. Her stomach growled. Erend heard it.

“Cmon. We’ll get this over with and then I’ll feed you. Otherwise you might not keep it down.” He reached out, drawing her up and out of the wagon, ignoring her cries of pain. She leaned on him heavily as he moved her to the fire, setting her on a log he’d felled. “Here.” A flask was produced from within his armor. “Old Oseram recipe for pain,” he assured her.

She ripped the top of the flask off and downed the concoction. It was practically ethanol. She gasped and choked, sure fire was coming from her throat, and in that one instant the Vanguardsman had her knee and ankle in his grip. With a sudden, shocking pull and twist, her bone crunched back into place. She screamed.

Blood began seeping from her wound once more as she shuttered with pain, and Erend scrambled to smear the clotting agent he’d boiled up across it. The bandage came next, accompanied by a homemade splint. “It’s not pretty,” he admitted as she gasped for breath. “But it’ll work. Let’s just hope the poison hasn’t gotten into your blood.” He picked up the flask she’d dropped and, with shaking hands, took a swing. “Then we’d really be in trouble.” He settled on the ground at her feet, heel resting in his palm, but she couldn’t feel it. She wiped the sweat from her brow.

“I don’t… think I feel like eating,” she admitted.

“After that, me neither,” he took his other glove off and began to rub the feeling back into her foot. She didn’t realize that all this time it had begun to turn a bluish, the blood supply restricted, and now it was slowly coming back. She sat back, groaning a bit with the pain. He chuckled good-naturedly.

“Can’t say this is how I fantasized me making you moan,” he admitted. “I was almost sure it’d be from a bad joke.”

She could feel her cheeks redden with heat. “Is now really a good time for that?” She chided him, though she could hear the amusement in her own voice. Erend paused when he felt the barely-healed wounds on her foot from Rath and his men, scowling down at what he saw.

“They really did a number on you,” he noted, voice low. She didn’t respond. He looked up at her. “I never want to hear again about what they made you say. We can keep it between you and I. I told my men to let Avad know it was a remnant of the Eclipse that picked you up, and we have them believing I’m taking you back to the Nora. I don’t know which of the Ealdormen is behind this, but I guarantee that I’ll find out.” His voice was a little strained as he looked up at her. She could actually begin to feel his warm hands on her foot. It was worth the pain. Her eyes rolled back in her head slightly. So he was going away again, once she was returned.

“Don’t go,” she heard herself saying again. “I need you. With me.”

She could see a muscle in his cheek tighten. He was fighting something. “You don’t need me. Even with this,” he gestured to her leg, “You’ll do fine. Avad’ll take care of you.”

She didn’t want to hear the Sun King’s name anymore, nor again a promise of how he’d take care of her. She scowled in the darkness, drawing her leg away from Erend’s hands. He looked up at her, an expression of guilt and hurt.

“Look I was wrong when I did what I did, after the feast,” the Oseram admitted. He moved to sit next to her on the log. “I shoulda never tried to get between you and Avad. I’m a nobody compared to you. An idiot to think you were even in my league.” He rested his arms on his knees, hunched over a bit. She wondered if that armor was heavy. “Though… I gotta be honest, because that’s who I am…” He cleared his throat. “It was probably the best moment I’ve had in a long time.”

“That week, at least,” she sniped, though at once regretted it. She had no right to use information like that against him. Mentally, she kicked herself.

“You’re kidding, right?” Erend chuckled nervously. “Since I saw you during your Proving, I haven’t even been able to _look_ at another woman. I mean… what’s the use lookin’ for stars after the sun’s burned your eyes?”

The guy had a way with words. She supposed that’s why they used him to quell the resistance against Avad’s Apology Envoys. Still, she wasn’t used to compliments, and self-consciously fingered her hair. Rath had cut it so short… it barely fluttered past her ears. No more beads for her. He noticed her disappointment and offered a smile. “Don’t worry. Still as beautiful as ever,” he assured her. “Though Avad might…”

She hit him then. She hadn’t hardly the strength to make it a hard punch, and it was aimed right for his solar plexus. His armor bruised her fist, but barely made him exhale. “Ooof!” Defensively, he put up his hands, catching her fist as she aimed another punch towards him. “Hey! That’s not nice! And after all those mean things you said me!”

She couldn’t help but laugh. When was the last time she really laughed? She couldn’t remember, but she was sure he was the cause. A weight seemed to slip from her shoulders, and her eyes teared up. She wanted to scream and cry and laugh all at once. Why not? Who could judge her, out here? Get it out, before you accidentally do it in front of the Great Sun King.

Her shoulders were shaking with manic sobs when Erend gathered her against his chest. He didn’t have any more snarky quips, it seemed. She didn’t have the strength to push him away, even if she wanted to. He was so warm, but hard, a piece of his armor’s steel biting into her cheek. It was like holding a Ravager. She didn’t mind.

They sank to the ground, leaning up against the log, and she cried and laughed herself to sleep against him. He let her sleep, finding his flask just barely within his reach without disturbing her. With one arm around her, his heart tied in knots, he began to drink.

 


	10. Chapter 10

“How far are we from Meridian?” She hated that she had to ask that question. Erend had told her that the Focus was nowhere to be seen at Rath’s compound, so she was essentially blind to where she was. It seemed as though they’d been traveling for days, when really, her leg had been reset only the day before. It seemed much better, no longer an unhealthy purple color, but she doubted she’d ever walk without a limp.

Erend had taken to walking next to the broadhead, leading it as it pulled the wagon she was on. He said he didn’t like to ride the machines… said it still felt weird. She didn’t have much choice than to stay in the wagon. He squinted at some mountains off to their right. “If we push hard, perhaps tomorrow night,” he told her. His voice was quiet.

He’d been moody since that morning. She’d woken up arranged in the furs on the wagon, and he’d slept in his armor against the log. She was surprised that moving her didn’t wake her with pain. Oseram medicine indeed. “Let’s not push hard,” she told him warily. Avad’s name hung like a cloud over them. Neither wanted the journey, but both knew that the king would be worried for her, and would see to her leg.

Occasionally, they’d stop to eat and drink. He seemed destined to remain on the edge of sobriety, and when he finished one flask, another would magically appear. At least he’s not completely drunk, she noted, annoyed. That wouldn’t do either of them any good.

Once, and only once, did they run into bandits. They came streaming down from the hills, a pack of ten at least. When he saw them, Erend turned, flinging a fur over Aloy. “Stay down!” He hissed. “You’re luggage!”

He seemed prepared to talk his way out of it, despite the alcohol, but it didn’t seem the bandits were in a talking mood. Almost instantly, one came barreling towards him, swinging his axe. Erend stepped aside, smashing the man’s face into the side of the wagon, making the whole thing shake. “Guess we’re skipping the boring part,” he yelled, tugging his hammer from next to her in the wagon. Aloy ignored his warning, quickly scrambling to reach for the slowly drooping body of the bandit Erend had dispatched, searching him for weapons. Ah! Blast bombs.

She grabbed a handful, checking Erend’s position. He was engaged with several of the bandits already. A few had begun to harass the broadhead, who bucked them out of the way, throwing Aloy to the ground. She cried out in pain, alerting the last of the group, who begun to advance on her.

“Surprise!” She shouted gleefully. Tossing one of the blast bombs, she quickly threw the fur over her head as the fire exploded, shredding three of the bandits. The ones prodding the broadhead turned their attention to her, just as Erend’s hammer crashed into the side of one’s head, bowling the other two over. Aloy activated another bomb and set it their way, yelling a warning to Erend. He dove aside just as it exploded, filling the air with a loud ringing.

Aloy shook her head, twisting her finger in her ear. She’d never get used to that. “You okay?” Erend asked, panting as he came up to her, shouldering his hammer. He had two arrows sticking out of him, both caught in his armor, but neither of which seemed to bother him. “I told you to hide!”

She merely gave him a bland expression. He should know better. With a grunt, he turned and righted the wagon, tugging on the broadhead to calm it. “Think we’ll see any more?” She asked as he lifted her from the ground to replace her in the wagon.

“Doubt it,” he admitted, still breathing hard. “We’re too close to Meridian. I’m surprised these were even here.” He set her down carefully, then straightened and tugged out the arrows protruding from his armor. The one he pulled from his side, close to his back, made him wince.

“One got you?” She asked, frowning as she sat up. She had time to see the red on the arrow tip before he threw it aside.

“Not as bad as it could have been,” he told her. “I’ll worry about it tonight when we camp.”

She watched him carefully as he resumed his place next to the broadhead, once more taking up their journey, satisfying herself that he wasn’t showing any signs of serious injury. “You did pretty good yourself, Mudi,” she heard him mutter to the Machine, patting it on the head. It ignored him. So he’d named it, she chuckled to herself.

 

That night, setting up camp was tense and slow. Aloy did her best to help, and hobbled as well as she could on her spear. The pain, eventually, brought her to sit near the fire, where she began to cook dinner from supplies Erend had taken from Rath’s. They wouldn’t need it for long. Tomorrow night, they’d be in Meridian.

Erend busied himself with firewood, and even set the Broadhead to wander with a gentle pat on its rear before he joined her, back leaning against a mossy outcropping of rock they’d chosen as a sort of bench. Both of them sat in silence, she portioning out the food, he carefully and deliberately removing his armor. So many buckles, she thought, trying her best to focus. It seemed to take him ages. And he _slept_ in all that.

As he untied his boots, she gave him his bowl of thick stew. He looked at it mildly. “You first,” she said. “I owe you.” He kicked off his boots and turned to take the bowl.

“Damn right you do.” He was down to his tunic, and she could see the extent of the damage the arrow had done. Without speaking, she reached out to touch the still-wet stain of red on his shirt. It caused him to choke briefly on his food. “Hey…”

“Eat,” she ordered, moving to drag his tunic up and over his head. He carefully set his bowl aside to facilitate, though didn’t let it sit for long. There were so many scars. She stared at them for a long while, noting how the more raised ones gave off a longer shadow. His chest was broad, packed with muscle, and his arms lost no bulk from removing his armor.

“Ersa,” he explained, pointing at one of the longer slices along his belly. Then he pointed to another. “First bandit raid.” Then another. “The 13th Sun King’s personal guard.” The last looked more like a burn. “First time I tried baking.”

She didn’t laugh, instead leaning to inspect the arrow wound while he ate. It had been stopped by muscle, but not after it’d penetrated deeply. A bruise surrounded the area, showing just how hard he was hit. Mentally, she thanked his armor.

“You got lucky,” she told him gently. He shrugged, finishing off his bowl of stew and handing it off to her. “And you’re lucky I’m a pretty good seamstress too.”

He rolled his eyes. “Is there anything you’re not good at?”

Where do I start, she wanted to ask him, lips tightening. She reached into their pack of supplies, finding a crisply sharp metal needle and piece of cord within. Thankfully, there was some salve left over from her own wound.

“We really are a piece of work, aren’t we?” She tells him, moving his arm to give her access to his side. She prepared the needle as best as she could, thankful it was not yet dark. He sat quietly, and even when she began to stitch the inside of his wound, he didn’t flinch. He was being tough for her, she noted, a sense of emotion bubbling in her throat. Which emotion, she wasn’t sure.

The stitching took a long time. She paused to offer him drinks from his flask. Oseram pain medicine. He turned them down, however, which surprised her. She fashioned a bandage, smearing it with salve, before beginning to wrap it around his torso. She bit her lip, far too aware she had to wrap her arms around him to get it completely around his chest. He chuckled near her face, taking the wrap from her.

“As much as I love feeling your hands on me, you’re making it really difficult to remember I’ve a job to do.” He was trying to make a joke, but it hit her hard. She sat up straight.

“What happens if you forget?” She questioned him, keeping her voice as low as his. If he was going to flirt, she was going to learn how to counterattack. He paused in fastening the bandage, looking at her a little strangely.

She sat next to him, arms wrapped around herself. She waited a moment, then looked up. “What happens if I don’t make it back to Meridian?”

“Aloy…”

“What happens if this is my last night outside the Palace? My last night of freedom?”

He frowned then. “You’re not a captive. You’re just… hurt. Avad cares about you. You’re everything the people and the city could hope for.”

The people. The city. “And you?”

“I’m a nobody, remember? I shouldn’t even be…” he gestured at himself. “I don’t even deserve to be near you let alone half naked.” He reached for his shirt.

She grabbed his hand, glaring at him with her lips tight, before he could reach the cloth. Without a word, she lifted his hand to her face, pressing it against her cheek. It was almost as big as her head. The callouses on his palm were rough and hard, but warm.

Her green eyes opened to see his expression, and it was one of a dam nearly breaking. He held her like something he was afraid to break, or something that would disappear if he was too rough. He should know better. He lifted his other hand, sliding it around her waist, pulling her gingerly closer. She leaned against his chest, a sensation she’d only dreamt of until now, curling to face up towards him. The scars on his stomach felt hot against her shoulder. Suddenly she was burning up. There were too many clothes. She closed her eyes, not letting the memory of Avad’s face taint this moment of bliss.

“You’re killing me,” Erend murmured against her lips before taking them in a kiss. She was prepared for this one, and she could feel his body respond to it like a leaf to the sun. She opened up beneath him, drawing him down against her. She could feel his hands, a faint tremor in them, pressing her tight against him, letting her feel his hunger for everything she was.

Tonight, neither of us will be cold, she told herself.

Slowly, she was learning how to kiss. When she got too hungry, he would pull back from her teeth, emitting a low noise that wasn’t entirely pain. He pushed her down into the grass, leaning over her on one arm to keep himself from crushing her and to keep his mouth against hers. She had no idea another person could taste so good. When he nudged her legs open, the pain snapped her more awake.

“Erend,” she murmured after breaking his kiss. She gasped as his lips found her ear. Oh, that was new. “Erend I don’t… know how to….” She pushed up at his bulk. He withdrew, sitting up, and she watched his chest rise and fall with heavy breathing.

“What?” he replied, his voice barely a groan. “You’ve never…” His eyes widened. “Outcast… oh shit. Aloy.” A little overwhelmed, he sat back on his heels, his hands on his thighs. Already, she missed the heat of his body, and she reached for him.

“Show me,” she told him. There was no room for a question in her voice. She squirmed, trying to draw him back. “Show me how to do it.”

Reluctantly, Erend pulled back, but didn’t release her hand. “Look… you’re hurt. It’ll hurt. I can’t…”

“I never wanted to hurt so much in my life,” she admitted, a little sheepishly. She released him and sat up. Bits of grass fell from her feathery hair. Her fingers moved to the laces of her vest, drawing them apart one by one. She shrugged out of it and her tunic, letting the cold air caress her skin. She was no stranger being naked outside, of course. But with someone looking at her the way he did… it was a whole different experience. She’d had on nothing beneath: having found it much easier to undress with her bandaged leg.

“Damn it… Aloy,” he murmured, his eyes drinking in the feast before him.

She watched as he did, propping herself up on one hand as she reached for him. His breath caught as she touched his hard stomach, trailing down to his belt. She saw the evidence of his want for her pressed hard against the leather of his trousers, and she focused on it, hungrily curious. “Show me,” she murmured.

Like a soldier following the orders of his queen, he did as he was told. Unsnapping his belt buckle, his pale eyes were on hers as he pulled his manhood free, letting the trousers hang clinging to his hips. It was thick and hard, just like the rest of him. “This is what you do to me,” he told her, a slight twinge of humor in the dark molasses of his voice.

Her fingertips reached down, trailing over the silky smooth skin of his shaft. He reacted instantly to her touch, his eyes sliding closed. Exploring, she drew her fingers across its length. Surprisingly, she felt it get harder. Surely, this would be impossible. Nothing that big could fit into her body. His pulse beat, hard and fast and strong against her palm. “More torture,” she heard him breathe, his voice ragged. His hand lifted, raked slowly through her hair. His muscles clenched with every squeeze of her hand. She rejoiced at having so much power over someone.

He was beginning to move into her hand, the gentle pushing she knew, had seen before, in animals, the way some newer couples danced. It was such an instinctive, raw gesture, and he didn’t even seem to know he was doing it. Her mouth watered. “How do I…”

Before she could finish her question, he bent, crushing her back into the grass. She didn’t even feel the pain of her leg as his thigh writhed between hers, a silken, heavy movement that broke her barriers like a torrent of rain. One elbow held him above her, his other arm beneath her back as he crushed her to him, and she relished in the sensation of his skin against hers, practically part of her.

She felt the hot, hard press of him between her legs, bumping the wetness at the apex of her thighs, and she steeled herself. He didn’t look at her, as if doing so would break him apart. She tensed beneath him.

He murmured something in her ear and she was sure it was an attempt to get her muscles to relax. She bit her lip. Her eyes squinted shut, she folded her good leg around him, trying to focus on the feel of the skin of his back beneath her hands. Another gentle press, and she could feel herself begin to relent, to give in. She took a sharp breath. The pain she expected was much less than she’d heard tales of. In a moment, it was over. She was wrong. It wasn’t impossible. She could feel her body stretch to receive him, her heat matching his, as if he stirred within her a furnace of coals. She felt dizzy. Her senses were inundated with warmth and slick wetness.

He was taut above her, like a bowstring ready to snap. He wasn’t stopping. It seemed like ages before the pressure he placed on her forced her to move slightly, upwards, as he hit the core of her being. She rolled her eyes. Never before had she felt this… fulfilled. Then he began to move inside of her, and the night crashed around them. Stars filled the blackness behind here lids, and she heard a harsh, lingering groan that she realized, later, came from her. Erend was spurred by it, assured she wasn’t in pain. Her hand went to the shock of thick hair he kept in a wide patch across the length of his head. It was damp with sweat. She never recalled seeing him sweat before, and certainly not from exertion.

He was stirring the pressure inside of her, and the moment she wished he would move faster, thrust into her harder, he did. Their bodies were communicating in a way she never realized, and even the way she rocked up against the grass with his movements felt good.

She didn’t recognize her orgasm when it hit her. She gasped hard, clutching at him, arching her back as if she wanted to tear his apart. He rode her through it, but his movements were becoming jerky, desperate. She knew he was close, and she craved it. The final thrusts into her were bruising, and she gripped him tightly with her muscles both inside and out as he pulsed into her, emitting a hiss of pure pleasure with each convulsion. 

He didn’t collapse, as she expected. Their bodies locked from the waist down, he held himself above her once more, close, and the kiss he gave her was more a breathless brush of his lips than before. “It’s true,” he groaned with ecstasy. “You are good at everything.”

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

The next morning was damp and cool. Aloy let Erend sleep, working to awaken the fire once more to keep him warm. She gathered her clothes, aware of the bruises on her body. They made her smile to herself.

Her leg felt better, but putting all her weight on it still brought her pain. She doubted Avad had considered the great gift he’d given her, her spear, would become a walking stick. Her clothes in one arm and the spear in hand, she began to trek back the way they’d traveled. She knew there was a spring not far away, Erend had gotten water from it, and she knew washing with the cold water would energize her.

The spring was where she’d seen it, and she unceremoniously dumped her clothes on the bank before slipping into the water. It chilled her to the bone, but she knew it was much too shallow to house any Snapmaws. A swim was what she needed: not a battle to the death.

After a few laps, she dipped deep beneath the water, as if looking for an escape. They were so close to Meridian: so close to Avad. She hugged the bottom of the pond, her lungs burning. What would she tell him? The truth, of course. He knew she hadn’t interest in the throne, or him for that matter. But what would refusing him do to relations between the Carja and Nora, one that were already shaky, at best?

Finally, she surfaced, her back to the shore. She heard a noise and emitted a sigh. It must be time to go. “Come in, Erend,” she suggested, procrastinating. “The water’s…” She turned towards the bank, water sliding in rivulets across her bare skin. She gulped. It wasn’t Erend watching her.

It was Avad.

The Sun King stood alone on the bank near her clothes, his arms crossed over his torso. He was cloaked, something she’d never seen before: usually he liked to show off his gold.

Self-consciously, she lowered herself into the water, feeling her skin burn. “Avad! What are you…”

“Come ashore, Aloy,” the king requested, beckoning with a hand. His voice held sorrow, his expression wistful. “We have much to talk about. I will see you at the camp.”

The camp… he’d already been with Erend. What did they speak of? The King disappeared with a flare of his cloak into the trees once more, and Aloy hurredly rushed to the shore to gather her things. Pulling on the furs was difficult with wet skin, but at least she didn’t have to worry about drying her now-short hair.

Erend was seated near the fire when she arrived, his head in his hands. Avad wasn’t the only one there. She recognized Carja guards, three of them, and one other from the Vanguard. There was a woman, Oseram by her dress. Aloy recognized her immediately.

“Petra! Avad!” She wasn’t sure if she should be happy to see them. “What’s going on? We were on our way back to Meridian.” While Avad frowned at her stumbling gate, Petra seemed blind to it, taking her up in a bear-hug.

“Not anymore, fire flower!” The woman told her, carefully setting her back on her feet. She grinned, her eyes creasing slightly with her smile. Seemed she was always in a good mood. “We’re headed east, towards your people. We were worried we wouldn’t run into you on the way, but here you are! Good old Kiln here really knows his way around!” She thumped the Oseram Vanguard on the back. Aloy recognized the name as the man Erend had sent to tell Avad of what happened to them.

“I still don’t understand,” Aloy admitted a little desperately. Erend had lifted his head, looking at her with a helpless expression beneath his brows. He was already wearing his armor, offering no explanation.

Avad, on the other hand, stepped in. “Much has happened since you and Erend left,” he spoke quietly, tucking his hands into the sleeves of his cloak. He glanced briefly at Erend. “And… I see much has happened with you as well.”

Aloy scowled. “Look. Someone needs to start talking straight.”

Avad nodded. “My apologies. Kiln filled us in on what transpired in the Claim. He told us of the Vanguard who had taken off towards the East to throw your trail… but it seems they were no longer after either of you.” He glanced briefly at Petra. “Meridian fell under attack. The Oseram… this clan… they were being led by one of the former Ealdormen… a man named Lock.”

“Lock!” Erend spat. “That sonofabitch…”

Avad raised his hand. “The firepower they brought was overpowering. We had just begun work on the defenses of the city, but… with the vanguard gone… with Erend gone… we weren’t prepared.” The king’s eyes glinted. “Many were lost. Blameless Marad among them.”

She heard Erend curse. Unable to stand any longer, she moved to rest on the edge of the wagon. “Meridian’s been occupied by the Oseram? How did you escape?”

This was the part Petra seemed to be waiting for. “When I caught wind of one of our old coot’s comin’ after Meridian because of some bull about Avad murdering Ersa, Dervahl, and Rath, I knew it wasn’t right. So I came along to help. Was hoping to see your fine figure there, but settled for this fella instead.” She thwapped the king on the back. “He was havin’ a little trouble smuggling himself out. So I opened a few walls for them.”

Recovering from the Oseram assault, the king cleared his throat. “I owe my life to Petra, Kiln, and the rest of my personal guards. But I would have stayed to fight were it my choice. It was Marad who had the escape planned. For how long I do not know.” He looked at Aloy, his brows knitting. “Seems our wedding is… for now… postponed. For I am a King without a Kingdom.”

Aloy couldn’t let her relief show on her face. People had died. “Avad… I’m so sorry. The Nora will accept you, I know they will.”

The man smiled warmly. “With you by my side, how could they not?”

She twitched. “Your people, the Carja. What’s become of them?”

Avad’s face darkened. “Access to and from the city has been barred. The Oseram… they have stronger weapons than I’ve ever seen. No one’s allowed in or out. The Carja within are… prisoners. Treated like nothing more than animals. Revenge, Lock says, for the Red Raids.”

Petra planted her fists on her hips, grinning. “So what’s the plan, King Man?”

He reached up to stroke at his goatee, thoughtful. “We continue on our journey. Petra, if you’re still with me, I need you to return. Scout the city as well as you can without being seen. You know the weapons they’re using. Find out what we’re up against. Erend…” The Sun king moved, putting a hand on the Vanguard’s shoulder. Erend looked up carefully. “Be my captain once more. I need you.” The king smiled in an attempt at warmth, and it caused Erend to wince more than any wound.

Erend stood. She noticed the blood of his arrow wound still on his armor, a dried patch of red. “Leave Lock to me. We go way back. I’ll find a way to get to that…” The leather of his glove creaked as he flexed a fist.

Avad turned to her. “Aloy,” he took a long moment with his next words, apparently unprepared with them. “I… need you to come with me. The Nora may not hear me out alone. You’ve seen what they do to envoys in their lands. But.” He glanced briefly at Erend. His mouth worked for a moment before he decided on his next words. “You are injured. I cannot ask you to risk your life on the journey. I can’t protect you as well as… the Captain of my Vanguard can.”

Stunned, Aloy and Erend both stared at Avad. Petra just seemed to catch on. “OH!” She cried, pointing at the other Oseram. “Oh no! Did you snog the King’s fiancée? You snogged the king’s fiancée! You dog!” She tsked, crossing her arms. “And here I thought I had a chance.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna be honest, I hadn't planned to include Petra in this story, BUT I felt like I needed a bit of brevity and thought she could fit in well. That and I honestly am winging this thing chapter to chapter, so why not?


	12. Chapter 12

  
So, she had a choice to make. She could go with Avad, fortify the Sun King’s appearance in the Sacred Lands, watch his back, vouch for him in hopes they could convince even more help from her already battered tribe. Or she could go with Erend and Petra, despite her lack of usefulness as a fighter or even a scout. But she would be with him.  
Aloy needed to talk to Avad, alone. Thankfully, at Petra’s taunting, Erend had attacked her with flying fists, and they were having a good scuffle just outside of camp. The guards surrounding Avad were becoming uncomfortable, Kiln was making bets on the other Oseram, and poor Avad….  
She took his hand, stepping away from his guards. She would miss the campfire, still wet from her swim and getting cold, but this was a private matter. “Avad,” she pleaded. “Look… I’m…”  
He held up a hand. “It was my fault, Aloy, please.” As always his voice commanded silence, respect. “I was a fool for forcing you into my agenda. Love makes men do stupid things.”   
She wrung her fingers, blushing like a kid being chided.   
“Besides,” he reached out, offering her a smile as he lifted her chin. “What kind of impression would I have made on the Nora if they saw my beautiful wife moping about my palace like a prisoner? It’d have the opposite effect of what I’d intended.”   
All of the tension seemed to bleed out of her. Without another thought, she threw her arms around him in a tight hug, one that he freely accepted. He pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek. “I am the true victor, after all,” he murmurs into her hair. “You’re happy, and I still have my Captain of the Vanguard.”  
Did this man even exist? She drew back, holding him at arm’s length. Maybe Erend was right, it had to be her short hair. She searched his dark eyes, finding nothing but acceptance, though mixed with a little sorrow. “When Meridian is once more ours, I will see you have the best of care. Now…” He glanced back to where Erend and Petra were sharing in his flask, already sitting near the campfire. Erend was rubbing his jaw where he’d suffered a particularly forceful uppercut. “I was going to ask for your decision, but I think it’s fairly obvious. If you will… “  
“Wait,” Aloy said. “Here.” She pulled off one of her necklaces, her favorite. Rost had carved it from a tree with wood as red as her hair. She withdraw her hunting knife and made several quick cuts. To most people, it looked like scribble. To those who had seen the Old Ones door in the heart of the mountain, it was an exact representation. “Give this to Teersa. She’ll know I sent you then.”   
He bowed with thanks, putting the necklace around his neck. With a sigh, he took her hand. “Once more you drift out of my life like a fire-haired spirit,” he murmured, not a small amount of sorrow in his voice. “But when we meet again, it will be in victory.  
She considered hugging him again, but the look he gave her made her consider it might only make things worse. She bit her lip and nodded. “Be well. May we see you once more in the palace of the Sun.”  
It didn’t take the convoy long to pack and leave. They were traveling light, after all. Erend and Kiln pored over a few of the King’s Maps, pointing out where he suspected new bandit camps may have been established, before the Oseram hugged and thumped their goodbyes. Petra hefted her canon from the back of the King’s wagon, dumping it into theirs. Aloy winced. She certainly wasn’t gentle with the thing.  
“On the bright side, you two almost made it back,” she pointed out as they began on their way towards Meridian, opposite Avad’s convoy. “Or perhaps you were procrastinating, eh?”  
Erend jabbed a finger at her. “You sit in the back,” he ordered.  
Aloy took up her place in the wagon, as much as she hated it, but at least now Petra was there to talk to. She really was truly glad to see the woman. The Oseram leaned close.   
“So how was it? Was it you gave ‘im the pop in his side that made him bleed like that? Must have been a rough tumble!”  
Aloy cleared her throat. She glanced at Erend as he walked next to the Broadhead, humming to himself. “Bandits,” is all she could squeak out.  
Perhaps having Petra as a travel companion wasn’t as fun as she’d imagined it’d be. The Forgewoman huffed in disappointment. “So. What’s up with your leg? Broken is it?”  
Aloy moved to show the woman, peeling off the bandage. “The skin’s almost healed but I don’t think the bone will ever be the same.”  
Petra mused over the misshapen limb. “You know, back at the Free Heap we’ve got a little… experiment goin’ on. Seems the old ones had the occasional run in with problems like these. What we thought were parts for old machines were actually replacements.”  
Aloy blinked. “What do you mean, replacements for what?”  
Petra rolled her eyes. “Limb replacements, you dented ingot! Seemed to work better than the real thing! If you ask me, one’a those will have you walking and running in no time, without that pathetic hobble.”  
Aloy was stunned. “You could… put one of those on me?”  
“Sure!” Petra chirped. She placed the side of a stiffened hand just above Aloy’s knee. “We’d chop it… say… here… and attach the rest.”  
Aloy’s hopes disintigrated. She grunted with disappointment. And here she really thought there was a chance.  
Petra frowned, her excitement waning. “What? What’d I say?”  
Near dusk, they stowed the wagon and released the broadhead. They could smell the city by then, still suffering from its attack by the machines, the acrid scent that hung in the air from too many burning machines. Petra enjoyed it, she took it all in with dreamy sighs, telling them all this travel makes her sick for the forge.   
Aloy was, thankfully, able to keep up. They were moving slowly anyway, the two Oseram assured her, to keep from being spotted. She hated every moment of it. She needed to run again. To climb and tumble and sneak.   
By nightfall, they reached the ridge of mountains overlooking the city. Erend helped her down, all three of them crouching and squirming until they reached the edge to look out.   
Meridian was a mess. Even worse than before. Smoke rose from almost every corner, and a dark film seemed to cover the entire valley. Petra emitted a murmur of surprise when she saw the turrets. They’d been hastily build but sturdy looking. “What in forge’s name ARE those things?”  
Aloy squinted in the darkness. Never had she missed her focus so badly. “They look like what Rath’s men had,” she noted. “Only bigger. Did they get those from Destroyers.”  
“Probably,” Erend admitted. “With a little bit of extra Oseram mixed in there. Look, the gates are all drawn. Most of the bridges are damaged. How the hell are they getting food in and out?”  
Aloy pointed. “They’ve razed the fields. Maybe took everything they could. But why? Unless it’s only until there are no more Carja prisoners.” That’s when they noticed the soft screams on the wind, of shouting. Grimly, they looked at eachother. “I guess they’re gonna draw it out long as they can. Send a message to the Carja that got out.”  
Petra looked very sober. “This ain’t right. I can’t believe this is Oseram doing…”  
A metallic screech shook the air. Instantly the three of them ducked from sight, panting. “What was that?!” Erend hissed urgently.  
Aloy swallowed. “Stormbird,” she whispered. “They have a Stormbird.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what I'm doing.


	13. Chapter 13

“How the hell did they tame a Stormbird,” Erend wanted to know. Aloy squirmed to take another look over the edge. Yes, there it was, perched in front of the main gates. It screamed again, its wings hissing steam as it attempted to rise into the air. The Oseram had it chained, it wasn’t tamed at all. “They’re using it to keep people away from the main gate,” she murmured. “If we can…”

“How do we kill it?” Erend wanted to know.

“With my cannon,” Petra supplied helpfully.

Aloy shook her head. “Avad never said anything about an attack,” she told them. “He said he wanted us to watch.”

Erend was bristling. “The more desperate they get, the more Carja they butcher on the other side of the walls. And the longer we wait, the more desperate they get!”

“Eloquent,” Petra snorted. She gestured to Aloy. “You really fucked this guy?”

“Shh, shut up!” Aloy said, turning red. Oseram were a nightmare. Avad had a whole Vanguard of them? “They obviously think the Stormbird can’t be tamed. I wonder if they’d tried?” Her eyes flickered across the field below, attempting to determine just how the bird was detained. “Petra, there,” she pointed. “Looks like a lever system. It’s rigged to release if the bird decides to go after anyone. Can you hit it with your cannon from here?”

Petra stared at her, a little dumbfounded. She glanced to where Aloy had gestured. “S…sure I guess. But I mean, the bird’s a much bigger target.”

Aloy shook her head. “If you can hit the lever, I think we can get rid of both the bird and a few of the bad guys too.” Petra looked doubtful. Erend was ready for her plan.

“Erend. You need to be bait.” His grip tightened on his hammer. “Get down there and get as many of those Oseram riled up as you can. The more of them they are, the less the bird’ll go after you.”

Petra was catching on. “And when there’s enough of them, I trigger the release, and Stormy gets his revenge,” she perked up. “I like it!”

“I don’t,” Erend said warily. “But I trust you.”

“Give me your bow. If I see any snipers, I’ll take them out. Petra, if the Stormbird goes after Erend, you know what to do.” Petra grinned, hefting her cannon a few inches off the ground.

Aloy took a deep breath. “Okay. This just might work.”

 

“Hey! Hey, you miserable tin-sniffers!”

Erend’s voice rang out over the valley. The deep tones she was getting so used to now growled like a tuned engine.

“If you think I’m scared of your little canary out here, you’ve got another thing coming!”

Aloy watched as the Stormbird screeched with fury as it focused on Erend, striding up towards the front gate. It clawed at the stone beneath it, straining. Petra was dialed in on her target, but leaned away from her weapon, ready to spot anything.

An alarm sounded. It was answered by another system coming from near the palace. He’d certainly pissed someone off.

“Oh woops! Did I wake you? I should have guessed you all couldn’t handle that watered down boar-piss the Carja call beer!”

Despite the dire situation, she heard Petra chuckle. She couldn’t help but shoot her an amused glance. Her bow was nocked, but she had to lean heavily against the side of the cliff face to keep herself upright for the attack. It made her begin to doubt her accuracy.

A clamor went up from behind the gates. They weren’t Carja gates, these were made of the same stuff Olin’s hatch had been. Tough stuff.

“Is that you, Erend?” Called a voice from behind the wall. It sounded amplified, as if the speaker were using some sort of cone to make him sound closer than he really was. “Come to join the good fight have you?”

“Come to wring your neck, Lock!” Erend was getting dangerously close to the Stormbird, but Aloy could see that though his anger was on the voice, his attention was on the real danger. “Blameless Marad was my friend! Worth the entire lot of you Ealdormen!”

The voice chuckled. It was not a deep voice, she pictured an old man with missing teeth. “Oh please. Don’t associate me with them. You could say we… broke up.”

For a moment Erend was silent. The Stormbird shrieked, lunging at him, missing him by only a few feet.

“They’re getting ready to fire on him,” Petra murmured, and quickly Aloy aimed at the first bowman she saw. A whisper of feathers through the air, and he was down. No one had even noticed.

“It would be great to catch up over a few drinks, Erend, but alas, business to attend to. After all, _someone_ has to deliver justice for Ersa’s death.”

The door to the front gate slammed open. A stream of Oseram guards, whooping with excitement, began to pour out after Erend.

“Idiots!” Petra cheered quietly. “They’re falling right for it.”

Erend backed up, glancing quickly up to their ledge. Aloy took out another archer. She knew Petra was watching for the signal, but she waited. Erend began to steel himself for the rush of fighters, all almost as big as he was. But when he began to realize that the retaliation was a bit of an overkill, he began to retreat.

“Now?” Petra begged.

“Now.”

A hiss, then a series of screaming rockets exploded from Petra’s cannon. They hurtled towards the mess in the valley, setting the entire scene ablaze with light. It looked as though the Oseram really were getting fed up with being behind the gates: it had to me most of them that had volunteered to help murder Erend.

A machine-gun of explosions caused most of the Oseram to hit the ground, including Erend. The housing of the lever system caught fire, buckled, and crashed to the ground. Some of Lock’s men, realizing the had been missed, regained their footing and resumed the attack on Erend, who was quickly removing himself from the situation.

With a mighty lunge, the Stormbird broke free. The cables holding it down snapped across the road, felling a handful of Lock’s men. They turned when they saw the machine was free, many of them attempting to scramble back to their fortress. Bad idea, Aloy thought. They’ll be sitting ducks.

She looked away from the carnage. Petra let out a whoot of delight. “Well done, girl. If we can stay low, that thing’ll finish with them and make itself scarce, right?”

“That’s the plan,” she murmured, lowering herself to the grass. “Either way, it’ll leave. That’ll make it easier for us to…”

A wave of heat flew up and over the ridge as the Stormbird, satisfied with its revenge, ascended. Petra and Aloy held their breath as it blocked out the moon, gaining the sky. When it passed them, Aloy let out a breath of air. It was over.

A squeal of exploding gunpowder interrupted the moment, and a trail of white shot out from one of the turrets on Meridian. Aloy gasped as she saw the plume of fire light up the night sky as it hit the Stormbird, winding it.

Desperately, cables still whipping from its wings, it tried to stay aloft. But one of its engines had been compromised, and it was going down. Petra threw herself over Aloy as it crashed meters from them, sending sparks and rocks flying.

Ears ringing, Aloy peered over Petra’s arm to see the Stormbird regain its footing. Right behind it, Erend skidded to a stop, horrified as he looked at the machine, then back to Aloy. Everyone froze.

With a grinding sound, the Stormbird focused on the women, its optics twisting and glinting in the light of the flames burning around them. With a shriek, it lunged.

Everything happened at once. Erend yelled, diving for one of the cables hanging from the wings. Petra gripped Aloy tightly, but not as tightly as the steel that clamped down on the Nora’s bad leg. She screamed with pain, clutching at Petra, but with one mighty swoop the Stormbird was once more aloft, compensating for its stuttering engine. Aloy felt Petra’s fingers slip through hers, and saw the cable rip from Erend’s hands. In no time, her companions were specks on the ground as the Stormbird vaulted into the clouds.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

She thought she might be dreaming again. She was so cold, and a roaring in her ears made her want to cover them. She yearned for Erend to warm her once more, but he never showed. Carefully, she squinted her eyes open. The land beneath her rolled out like an intricate rug, the sun just peeking over the horizon, making her eyes water. Or perhaps it was the cutting, freezing wind that licked her moist face and took her breath away. She was flying.

Rather, the Stormbird was flying. She froze as she looked up at the beast, sure one of its talons had pierced her through and she hadn’t succumbed to death just yet. She took a mental tally of her state: bruised and battered, cold and painful, but whole. She could move only a small bit, enough to wriggle a hand free to grip its leg. Her other hand still held Erend’s bow, crushed to her body with the Stormbird’s grip. Why hadn’t it killed her? Where was it going?   


She got her answer soon enough. Rising up over the valley, orange and red streaked sandstone piled high in a jutting mountain. She recognized it after a moment… able to place herself about three days hike north from Meridian. The Stormbird seemed headed for an outcropping so high off the ground, she doubted anyone would see it from the dirt. It was taking her there to feast, she was sure. How odd.

She looked down, gauging her chances as the bird swirling upwards, using the updrafts created by the terrain. They weren’t good. She noticed its left wing was still not working: the thruster there sputtered occasionally, but the bird flew with a tilt. It just barely gained the outcropping before flinging her to the ground. The bow scattered away, but she didn’t dare cry out in pain as she landed. Quickly, she clambered away, sure her release was a mistake.

The outcropping was nearly bare, but went deep into the sandstone. Piles of sticks and debris surrounded her. Some of the sticks were actually bones, she noticed. Bones and machine parts, all former Stormbird kills. She went for the nearest pile, ducking behind it, panting for breath as she awaited her fate.

Nothing.

Her heart in her throat and her eyes as wide as they could possibly get, Aloy peered around the debris. The Stormbird perched there as if it’d forgotten she existed. Its damaged wing remained unfolded, sparks flying from where the rocket had grounded it. It stared out across the landscape, unmoving. Its lights blazed blue, not the orange Aloy had expected.

Aloy ground her teeth. There was no way she was getting down from that outcropping, not unless it was on that machine. But she would have to find some way to get it to do what she wanted without murdering her. And if it saw her as no different than the Oseram that bound it, Aloy knew there wasn’t much chance of that.

Her hand closed around a rock. She steeled herself before chucking it to the other side of the outcropping, where it knocked loudly against the side of the mountain before rolling off the edge, into oblivion. The Stormbird did not move.

She whistled, loudly. Still nothing. Far off, a Glinthawk crowed, but otherwise only the sound of the wind replied.

Great, Aloy grumbled to herself, carefully unfolding from her crouch. She stood, moving slowly to retrieve Erend’s bow, her eyes on the machine the whole time.

For a long time she stood, bow in hand, waiting to be noticed and rent asunder. The damaged thruster hissed and spat sparks, making her jump. Frustrated, she yelled, “What am I supposed to do about it!? I only know how to take machines like you apart!”

Unsurprisingly, she didn’t get a response. With a huff of frustration, she turned to the scattered debris behind her. Perhaps she could fashion some sort of climbing gear, though without the full use of her leg, she doubted she’d get far. She had to try.

Something caught her eye. Among the bones sat something altogether different, something she recognized instantly.

It was a focus.

She couldn’t help but move carefully in the Stormbird’s presence, but there was never a more satisfied cry of hope than when she scooped up the instrument and placed it against her head. It chirped reassuringly.

Aloy let out a whoop before realizing that something was very, very different with this focus. The gridwork was green, not purple, and it pinged constantly, seeming to point out the most random of parts in the piles around her, a lengthy description of each printing out before her eyes. For a moment her senses were overcome with information and she whipped around, trying to take everything in.

The Focus beeped with alarm when she sighted the Stormbird. It still hadn’t moved, and a green glow surrounded its wing. Right where it’d been hit, she noticed, a little shocked.

Carefully, she advanced. It wasn’t tame, it couldn’t be. Even tamed machines moved. It looked… almost powered down. Not dead. The closer she got, the more details were displayed about the Stormbird’s wing. The current thruster output, the fail-safes in place, the error reports. She reached out, touching the damaged thruster, but could see nothing to do for it.

Her Focus chimed, and she followed another indicator. There, a cable had wrapped around the housing of what her Focus told her was a chillwater filter, and seemed to indicate that it was the source of the malfunction. With a mighty heave, Aloy released the tangle of broken cable, wincing at the screech of metal on metal. She heard a hiss as the chillwater began to accelerate once more through the machine, pumping into overheated reservoirs and regulating the Stormbird’s system once more. Several beeps were heard, and the Focus pinged in unison, confirming the machine’s repair. Slowly, the Stormbird folded its wing and began to move in natural, passive ways, ignoring her as it shuffled across the outcropping and focused its optics on various points of the landscape.

“What _is_ this,” Aloy murmured, cupping her hand over the Focus. “Some sort of… repair assistant?” She looked around more. Every part in the alcove had use: and she could see each rendition of the greater whole it used to be. She learned she could narrow down her field of vision somewhat, feeling a little less overwhelmed, but not less excited. She looked at Erend’s bow: it pointed out a weak point, suggesting a reinforcement made from the pieces around her.

“This… is… awesome!” The huntress breathed as she rummaged, fitting the metal just as her Focus instructed, using other pieces as any tool she needed. She found the remnants of something that looked like Petra’s cannon, only much leaner. Only a few parts were missing. An information tree expanded before her, showing what she could use instead. “Oh, this is just cheating,” she gloated with bliss as she went to work.

She had no idea how long she was arms deep in debris, piecing together remnants of things from the days of the Old Ones. She had no idea how any of the items got up there, only that perhaps the Stormbird was a bit of a packrat. The machine itself continued to rest at the edge of the outcrop, never bothering her, but instead watching her curiously as she rummaged through its things.

When she realized how much her leg ached was when she noticed the sun was once more setting. If Erend and Petra were okay, they had to be worried about her. She imagined Erend’s face, wanting to see it light up the way it always did when he caught sight of her. Wait until he sees what you did to his bow, she thought to herself. Wait till he sees my _gun._

But first, she’d have to get down. Stretching, she moved to stand. Her leg was all pins and needles, and she scowled down at it. Instantly, her focus pinged to life, identifying her break. Through it, she saw where the bone had begun to knit together improperly, and that a fragment was keeping it from healing entirely. “No kidding,” the huntress murmured, frustrated.

The Focus whooped, drawing her attention to something in the corner of the outcropping. Curious, she lifted the large case, hefting it over towards the middle of the space to open it. Everything inside was shiny and gleaming with glass and metal. She frowned, trying to make sense of it. Her focus told her one thing was to restart hearts, another was to insert medicines into the bloodstream. It wanted her to open a package, and she tore open the paper to find long bands of very thin metal. She recognized it… they were similar to the odd blue lights Sylens had running through his skin. She thought they were ornamental.

Following instruction, Aloy bared her leg, carefully applying the metal strips to her skin. Somehow, they held fast, though they never stuck to her fingers. There was a very specific way to arrange the strips, and if she went to place one out of line, her focus beeped and flushed red. Every time she applied a strip, it connected with another until she had an entire network from her knee to her ankle. When the last strip was pressed against her, the maze of metal began to glow with a soft blue light. Warmth flooded her bones and she sighed with relief. There was no pain.

Her focus pinged green, confirming the repairs were complete.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me longer than usual to update. I had had a few drinks and was not in much shape to be making any sort of sense.


	15. Chapter 15

Her hope renewed, Aloy began to prepare for her departure. The rifle she’d resurrected from the debris slung over her shoulder, fitting as snugly as her spear had. She even grabbed the medical case, along with a few bits and pieces she was sure Petra would like, if she was still okay.

Almost sheepishly, she sidled up to the Stormbird. Carefully, she reached out a hand. “Okay, so we’ve gotten to know eachother for a while. You know I wouldn’t hurt you. Friends?”

The Machine didn’t seem concerned at her touch, nor when she used the cables to fashion a sling on its back, into which she climbed. It wasn’t comfortable, riding machines never is, but she wasn’t worried about falling off.

“You’re not gonna like it, but we gotta go back. I don’t know how the Oseram captured you, but we’re gonna make them pay.” She double checked everything was within reach and secure. She pulled up her focus map, ignoring the prompts for repair sites, finding the general location of Meridian. With the gesture she’s used before, she synced her destination to her mount.

With a creak of metal and the whirring of blower motors, the machine proceeded to fall off the edge of the mountain. Aloy gripped with her very life, her teeth bared against the wind as it poured past her face, making her squint. Perhaps this was a bad idea. Stormbirds were never meant to be ridden. Perhaps it couldn’t compensate for her weight…

Only a few hundred meters above the ground, the machine’s wings unfolded and hissed as it braked its descent, forcing Aloy’s stomach into her boots. She held on to the cold metal with a desperate tenacity as it spiraled into forward flight, engaging the subroutine for long-distance flight. Despite the cold, Aloy noticed, it was a smooth ride.

As the sun finally set over the horizon, the Stormbird’s cruising lights turned on, and they were a blue streak in the sky. Aloy looked down at her leg, seeing the glow of the Mending Metal through her trousers, feeling the warmth they supplied. She wasn’t sure if it was mending the bone over time, but all that mattered to her was that it felt normal and strong. Perhaps Petra wouldn’t need to chop it off after all, she mused.

 

 

She smelled the smoke before she saw it. Meridian was burning again? But no, it wasn’t long before she saw it was much closer than the city. Woodsmoke. A camp. There were people on the ground, clustered around fifteen or twenty campfires. The occasional blue light of a tamed machine glinted through the throngs of people; a watcher there, a long-leg, mostly striders. A questioning beep came from the Stormbird. It’d seen them too, and was preparing for an attack. She canceled the request with a flick of her wrist.

“No! They’re Carja.”

The people scattered when her Stormbird blocked out the moon. Thrusters realigned to break its forward momentum, and the backdraft blew out one of the campfires. Several of the Carja turned to face her, spears in hand, some with swords. They were citizens, she noticed, shocked. Not soldiers. Were these the Carja that escaped the city during the occupation? There weren’t many of them, perhaps a few hundred, poor and wealthy alike, men and women and even a few children old enough to hold a weapon.

She moved to swing off of the machine once it landed, flooding the valley with artificial light. For a moment she hesitated, expecting to feel the twinge of pain in her leg as she landed. There was nothing. She stood tall, holding up her arms. “Carja citizens!” she called in greeting.

She was greeted with an avalanche of noise. Questions besieged her, a rush of people came forward to touch her, greet her, hug her, strangers offering to get her food or drink or to take her to a fire. They wanted to know what’d become of her, how she tamed a Stormbird, many thanked the great sun for their savior. She smiled, doing her best to answer where she could, but she had questions of her own.

“Who leads you?” She asked the closest man, a priest who’d hugged her. He pulled back his hood. “Namman!” She exclaimed, throwing her arms around him again. “You made it!”

The priest smiled at her. “Indeed, though I’m afraid we lost many. The Hunting Lodge was hit as a splinter group of the Oseram distracted the militia, taking out some of our greatest archers. Seems that they’ve had this planned for a while. Do you have word of the Sun King?”

With a twinge of anxiousness, Aloy thought of Talanah. Shaking her head, she pushed the worry aside. Many had fallen, after all. “Avad’s gone east for sanctuary. If he can’t rally the Nora to help, he’ll at least be safe,” she assured the priest. She was aware the others had fallen silent around her.

The Sunpriest’s mouth pulled into a frown. “The nights grow darker. So close to the city, we can hear the cries of our loved ones. The citizens grow restless without their king: they wish to strike back. We-“

“MAKE WAY, GET OUT OF THE WAY!” Instantly, she knew the voice, and her heart leapt. So he was alive!

She turned to see Erend pushing his way through the throng of people. She unshouldered her rifle, dropping it to the ground. When his eyes caught her, she could see every hope and doubt flicker there, finally resting upon pure joy. “Aloy!”

With a few strides, she threw her arms around his neck in a hard kiss that nearly bowled him over. A mixture of gasps and murmurs ringed through the throng of people, and Aloy could hear even a few nervous laughs. She didn’t care.

For a moment Erend was stunned, then crushed her to his armored chest in a powerful hug, kissing back just as eagerly. When she drew away, his face was flushed. “How many times are you gonna make me think you died?” He chastised her a little breathlessly.

“Got one in there for me?” came Petra’s voice.

Aloy grinned, drawing reluctantly away from Erend to reach for the other Oseram. She was perfectly happy to give her a smooch as well, as thrilled as she was to see the forgewoman. The priest, perhaps attempting to dissuade any more public displays, stepped forward raising his hands.

“The Sun has gifted us with the means to exact our revenge on those who wronged us!” He was addressing the Carja, who whooped in agreement. “When the holy light shines upon us, we will take back our city and our loved ones. We will follow Aloy!”

 


	16. Chapter 16

So many preparations. She wondered how it came to this; an outcast living her entire life within reach of only one person, to being asked to lead a small war. The Carja didn’t have much, and their weapons were rudimentary at best. Petra had seen to their training, but being as they’d only been gathered a few days at most, there was little time before the Lock and his men would know they were there and fortify against their attack.

There were so many preparations, but no time. Every minute they waited, the Carja in Meridian were being murdered in the name of revenge. Hostages, but they were finite, and then the Oseram would have nothing. Neither would the free Carja, Aloy thought.

They wanted to attack at first light. Aloy realized how little sleep she’d had. For three days, the most she’d done was nap on the back of the Stormbird. She knew it was obvious, with the way she needed things repeated to her, her slow gait. Erend noticed, at least, and he drew her aside.

“There’s a few hours left before dawn,” he told her, voice low. She could only stare at him numbly. “Go get some sleep. Use my tent, I’ll make sure no one bothers you.”

She emitted a long sigh, leaning against him. “Come with me,” she pleaded.

He chuckled, regret in his voice. “If I did, you wouldn’t be getting much sleep at all.” He pulled her towards a tent nearby, opening the flap to reveal a bedroll inside. She was rejuvenated to see that her spear was there, her gift from Avad, resting nearby. The bedroll looked so inviting, her mouth almost watered.

“Go,” Erend reassured her. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

She collapsed onto the bedroll, asleep before Erend let the flap fall shut.

 

 

No one woke her. It was the sun glinting on her face that roused her from a dreamless sleep, and she sat bolt upright. Her head pounded, but she knew it was from lack of sleep, and will fade. Her body was rejuvenated. She wondered if it was a side effect of the Mending Metal, making her feel more awake than she really was.

Grabbing her spear, she rushed out of the tent. A thousand Carja minutemen responded to her appearance, faces turning towards her in a wave as far as the valley wall. Murmurs rose and weapons were taken up. Aloy smiled. They were ready.

The Stormhawk stirred, turning to regard Aloy with interest. It didn’t look like it’d moved all night. Petra was examining one of its cores, and she jumped when it moved.

Erend was there, getting up to join her. She noticed he’d rolled a barrel up to the tent. Had he been sitting there all night? If he had, she couldn’t tell. He grinned at her with that heavy-lidded expression of his, hefting his armor and pulling on his helmet. “We’re ready when you are.”

She looked around once more. Even Namman was there, she’d assigned him to be in charge of the healers and had given him the medical box she’d picked up from the Stormbird’s nest. They’d  gone over the items for most of the night before. Petra hopped off the Stormbird and retrieved her cannon. Aloy hefted both her spear and her rifle.

It was time to take back Meridian.

 

 

The sun was just over their shoulders, giving the Stormhawk the benefit of surprise. It hurtled out of the sun, crashing down onto one of the cannon turrets before the alarm was even sounded. After it had landed on the second turret, the city seemed to awaken. The other cannon turrets twisted to aim at the machine, and the general rancor of warriors readying for battle melded with the screech of metal as the Stormhawk tore apart the Oseram’s weaponry.

Aloy waited until the canon she was aiming at began to fire on the Stormhawk. She had climbed to a high vantage, using a large boulder to support the weight of her rifle and hold it steady while she watched through the reticle. A squeeze of the trigger, and she gasped as her shoulder sang with the jolt it gave her. A fireball lit at the exit point of the gun, and she could see the turret she’d aimed at fairly crumble beneath her shot. She couldn’t help but laugh with excitement. It worked! There were screams of men as the cannon tumbled from its supports, crashing to the ground. Even the Stormbird seemed momentarily surprised before attacking another turret.

That was the signal. The Carja, furious and injured and desperate, sent up a roar of unity, following Erend with hope in their shouts. Petra emerged from the crevasse she’d scouted beforehand as the Vanguardsman led the first wave of attackers through the valley. The Forgewoman took aim at the city gate, reinforced with Oseram steel, grinning from ear to ear as she opened fire.

Aloy could hear Petra’s cry of frustration as the gate buckled, but did not give way. She considered firing at it with her rifle, but another canon was leveling at the Stormbird, and she had to take it out first. She needn’t have worried. With a swing of his hammer, Erend splintered the door, and with another, it was felled. She saw him and his throngs of fighters disappear into the city.

The Oseram weren’t going to be taken that easily. Most of their cannons gone, the men had rallied beyond the gate, ready to meet Erend’s primary attack. Petra was busy making holes in the walls with her cannon, through which the Carja archers began letting loose arrows, felling Lock’s men through the portals.

Aloy stuck her tongue into the corner of her mouth, setting her sights on the last of the cannons. Something exploded in the center of the city, but there was no fire. A concussive wave poured out from the site, sending sparks before it and felling men and stone behind it. When the force hit the Stormbird, it fell out of the sky without so much as a flash of light, stiff.

Aloy stood up straight, alarmed. When the wave hit her, it blew her hair into chaos, and her rifle grew so hot she had to drop it. Petra, as well, seemed affected, and with disgust, threw her cannon aside before marching through the shattered gate. So, they had technology that killed machinery. Aloy tapped at her Focus, breathing a sigh of relief when she saw it stuttering but functional. She leapt down from her vantage point, hefting her spear. Things were going to get personal.

 

 

When she entered the gate, most of the work had been done. The Carja were less trained and less prepared, but still much more numerous. Most of the bodies, she realized with relief, were Oseram. She tried not to look at the ones who were Carja. She would mourn later.

She headed towards the palace, not letting herself be distracted by the skirmishes. There were empty cages, and she balked at them, not relishing the memory of herself, once, in a cage. It seemed some of the prisoners had been set free already. She came across the downed Stormbird, coughing at the amount of smoke that poured from its prone body. At least it’d had its revenge.

The steps towards the palace showed that it’d been the most heavily guarded. Carja were pressing in, but the Oseram were a stout people, and in a knot made formidable allies. Aloy danced through battle, stabbing with her spear, relearning to move on a leg now without flaw. For every Carja that fell, she helped cut down seven. “Out! Those without armor, retreat!” She yelled, desperate to save those she could. “Help the wounded!”

Most of the Carja fell back, fighting, and she covered their retreat as best as she could while ascending the stairs. Petra joined her, and she was glad to see the forgewoman had obtained a spear herself, though seemed less comfortable with it than her long-ranged weapons. “I saw Erend get through!” She yelled, pointing. “We’ll handle the rest of ‘em. These Carja can be pretty good fighters when they’re pissed enough!”

Aloy rushed up the stairs, glad to see barriers had already been hammered to pieces on her route. She was concerned that Erend had gone on alone to face Lock. She found them on the parapet, where only a short while ago, they’d feasted in celebration.

Lock wasn’t entirely different from what Aloy had imagined him. An older man, white board bushy over his heavyset chest and belly, he was wearing armor that looked like it’d belonged to someone much bigger. His wispy grey hair peeked out beneath a metal helmet in the shape of a boar’s head. He was very unhappy looking.

Erend had dropped his hammer, his hands raised, open, standing opposite of Lock when Aloy stumbled to a halt by him.

“Ah ah ah!” Lock barked when he saw her, lifting his hand to show her what he held. Aloy recognized it… the same kind of ignition device Dervahl had used. That was why Erend had dropped his hammer. “You thought I came to just sit here and ruin the Carja’s day? Idiots, this will be the end of Meridian and its blood-soaked history.”

Aloy stiffened. “Lock,” she said. “You knew the Carja had nothing to do with Ersa and Dervahl.” She carefully set aside her spear, her eyes on the trigger. “It was you who’d sent Rath after me.”

She saw Erend shift his weight out of the corner of her eye, and Lock rolled his. “Of course I did,” he told her. “When we found out that Erend had left the Vanguard, we knew it was our chance to strike. It would have been much easier with Erend and his Vanguard on our side.” He sneered. “But I guess you just weren’t that great of a liar. Now we all end here together.”

She had to buy more time. Perhaps Petra would get the Carja to safety before the trigger was pulled. She held up her hands. Only a few more steps before she could possibly reach Lock. “You’ve done it though, even without the Vanguard. The Sun King is gone, his city was in ruins before you even attacked. Let the Carja free… I will take them to the east. Meridian is yours. There’s been too much death here, why continue the trend with your own life?”

For a moment, it looked almost as if Lock would consider her offer. He rolled the trigger between his fingers. “An Oseram on the Sun Throne,” he sneered. “What’s next? A Nora woman?” He shook his head. “Sorry, huntress. It’s a shame to end your story here with me, but ya gotta admit, it’s a pretty beautiful place to d-“

An arrow suddenly shrieked past her shoulder, exploding through Lock’s forehead. He dropped like the turret she’d destroyed earlier, and she dove for the trigger. When it landed in her palm, the Nora fell practically on her face with a gasp of surprise and relief. She turned to look at Erend. He was eyeing his bow with a stunned expression of respect.

“Just what did you DO to this thing?” he asked her.

 


	17. Chapter 17

Once more, Aloy walked through the streets of Meridian with the intention to gauge just how much destruction had been done to the city. She was thankful to see that much of the rebuild from the attack of Hades still stood, having been used by the Oseram during their occupation. Wounded, Oseram and Carja alike, were clustered around the priests that remained, who were administering aid. Aloy had given the order to spare Oseram who’d surrendered, though she knew it may cause more clashes down the line, but right now it seemed all were exhausted, famished, and in need of a rest.

It was oddly silent, compared to the chaos of the battle. Adrenaline gone, she could feel her exhaustion catching up to her. When she passed Olin’s house, she longed to retreat within to just hide, sleep, and recover. She wished someone else would take charge. Perhaps when Avad returned…

“Aloy!” Namman shouted, gesturing her over. She sighed and obeyed, frowning when she saw that he was not engaged with providing aid. Instead, he had two other priests with him, each carrying several scrolls. Interested parties catching sight of the exchange paused with whatever they were doing, turning to watch as she stopped in front of her friend.

“What is this?” She questioned, gesturing to the scrolls. The two other priests looked uncomfortable. Namman looked excited.

“Hope! A new beginning!” Nammad assured her, uncrossing his arms. In his palm rested a headpiece. At first she thought it was Avad’s crown. But no, this one was much smaller, lighter…

Her stomach clenched. She looked quickly around at the people, as if searching for escape. More had arrived, obviously expecting this to happen. They were all smiles, expressions of adoration on faces whole and injured alike. Silently, she cursed them.

One of the priests unrolled a scroll. He began to read in a slightly wavering voice. “I, Avad, Fourteenth King of the Sundom, hereby declare the necessity and establish the ability of the position of Sun Queen. This position is gained by birth, by marriage, or by appointment of the current Sun King.” Aloy gazed longingly at the ground, wishing it’d arise and swallow her up. The priest went on. “The position on all aspects mirrors the powers of government given to the Sun King, wherein power is distributed by half. Should the absence of a Sun King be imminent or sudden, the Sun Queen would then stand as ruler until a Sun King is once more established. This is the will of the Sun, written by my hand, on the dawn of my third year as rule.”

Nammad had not withdrawn his offer of the crown. She heard the Carja hold their breath, murmuring amongst eachother. They certainly liked to murmur. So this was it. Savage one day, queen the next. She will never understand people. A woman in the crowd shouted. Aloy winced, half expecting a rock or piece of vegetable to fly her way. But then it was followed with another cry, a cheer. They were cheering her.

Her hands shaking, she reached up to remove her helmet, letting it fall to the ground. Namman stepped forward, smiling that easy smile of his as he locked the crown around her head. It wasn’t as heavy as it looked. The Carja fell silent. The priests knelt. The rest of the crowd followed suit, just as Erend burst through to see what was going on. He stuck out like a sore thumb in a sea of kneeling, battered people before he realized what was happening, dropping to his knee.

“Not you,” Aloy murmured. “Please not you too.” She reached out, forcing Namman to his feet. “Make them stand,” she pleaded. “I don’t need kneeling. I need progress! I need these people seen to, and if a dumb hat will put this behind us and get things DONE then I accept!” She saw she’d balled Namman’s robes in her fists with desperation. “I need these bodies seen to. I need repairs. I need… “

“The Sun Queen has been named!” Namman announced, raising his arms to the crowd who began to regain their feet. “We have much to discuss. Please, address your questions to me, and I will arrange for them to be heard.” He stepped away from Aloy, tilting his head towards the palace, perhaps a hint that if she were to escape, no other time would be better.

Furious, she grabbed Erend by the collar of his armor and dragged him towards the palace. He seemed in a good mood, following her faithfully. “Did you know about this?” She questioned across the bridge to the palace.

“The declaration? Nah. I figured Avad just wanted you around for show. For the Nora. I had no idea he’d split the job with you…” He scratched at the back of his head as he walked. “Wonder if he thought it’d come back to bite him in the bum while he was gone. It won’t take him long to find out you’re in charge now.”

She couldn’t help but smirk. An order to scout devolving into a small war with a newfound matriarchy? “We’re really bad at following orders,” she told him. “And not making a mess.” They reached the parapet with Avad’s throne and she threw herself upon it. It was really more of a short couch, she noticed. “I just need to sit,” she told him, rubbing her eyes. She unclasped the crown and tossed it aside, leaning back to take a long breath of smoke filled air. She could see the entire city but there was so little noise. She basked in the silence.

She opened her eyes to see Erend leaning against the parapet railing, watching her. A moment of embarrassment set in… he must be exhausted as well, but not once did he complain. He smiled at her playfully. She realized he was admiring her, in Avad’s throne. “Now that the beautiful Nora warmaiden is Queen, does she have much time for a lug like me?” He wondered aloud.

She looked at him then, really looked. Scrapes and cuts covered his head and face where his helmet had failed, and his armor was chipped, torn, stained and blackened with smoke. Never did he look more heroic to her.

“Oh, I’m sure I could have a minute,” she told him, hooking a finger into a loop on his armor and drawing him closer to the throne. “Maybe even two.”

He let himself be pulled forward, where his shadow blocked the sun. She released him and leaned back in Avad’s seat. It was surprisingly comfortable. “I think you should remove your armor, Vanguard,” she suggested, sprawling a little.

His brows went up with interest. “As my Queen commands,” he relented, almost teasingly. She watched as he shrugged out of the heavy armor. It wasn’t an easy process, and she noticed the bruises, cuts and burns he had beneath. When he was only wearing trousers, the armor thumped in a heap at his feet. She reached out to trace a few of his newer wounds, knowing they’d be added to his map of scars. He seemed starved for her touch, leaning into her hand, his fingers flexing as if not daring to touch her back.

There was no need to speak from then on. Hunger burning in her eyes, she sat up straight and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his stomach, one that turned into a sensual taste along one of his abdominal muscles.  His skin was salty and smoky, making her thirsty for more. They needed so much more time alone, she lamented. There were so many things she wanted to do, to try.

With her fingers, she deftly untied the belt below his navel. She felt his whole body stiffen and saw him glance about, suddenly aware of where they are. She didn’t care. Let them see. Perhaps then they’d leave her alone. Her fingers delved under his clothes, gripping him hungrily, making him gasp. Slightly amused by this, she experimentally dragged her teeth along his side, under his old arrow wound.

He emitted a sound that was almost a growl, and pushed her back against the throne. When his mouth locked onto hers, he could taste the essence of war on her lips, where she’d taken it from his skin. She desperately fumbled at her own clothes, the ties holding her own armor on, the leggings beneath it. He pulled them from her quickly, not wanting to be away from the heat of her body more than just a moment.

When he pushed into her, the sensation of still being mostly clothed was almost a thrill. She could see him grit his teeth at the friction between their bodies, and he murmured something about how good she felt, how tight. He didn’t need to, she shared the feeling. He leaned up to move within her, and her eyes focused on his body looming between her legs, stretching her, bumping into her with a hunger that matched hers. A strange reaction overcame her, once of fierce possessiveness. He was her soldier, her Vanguard. The pleasure she felt at the realization was altogether odd but real. She rolled her head back against the top of the throne, squeezing him hard with her muscles. His breath hitched in his throat, and he responded with a deeper thrust, knocking the wind from her lungs. Together, they reached new heights, and by the time she was sweating and calling his name, she’d left clawmarks down the front of his chest. He spent himself inside of her, drawing her close, not minding that the armor she still wore from the waist up bit into his flesh.

“You can never leave,” she promised him breathlessly.

“You could never make me,” he responded against her neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it folks! I think I've gotta call it here. I'm fresh outta ideas.  
> Thanks for reading, you all are awesome.  
> Find me on tumblr or deviantart if anyone wants to chat.


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